seriously though, Norway probably has the most metal fucking musical pirate ever
captain sabertooth, motherfucker
I’m sorry I don’t call. Sorry I snuck down the stairs and out to the mouth of a boy who will never know my name. I’m sorry I ruined your carpet with a backdraft of whiskey. I’m sorry I told our secrets. Sorry I put them in a book. Sorry I didn’t tell you about it. I’m sorry for the freckles and the switches and the mean boys in grade school. I’m sorry I scratched your Neil Diamond record. Sorry I drew the picture of the dead cat. Titled it after my dead sister. I’m sorry they pulled her from your body like a sad wet sponge. I’m sorry no one came to the hospital. Sorry I felt sorry. I’m sorry about the stolen tampons and the nest of mice in the stove. The pennies for gas money. Sorry I drank all your rum. Sorry about the boy in the basement. And the one on the porch. And the back of your car. I’m sorry about the slashed window screens. And forearms. I’m sorry I lied about acid and the boy with the knife. The houseful of beer rats. Sorry for the weevils and the dead grass. I’m sorry I don’t call anymore. I’m sorry your life looks like this in photo albums. Sorry I was part of your stain. I’m sorry it took 36 years to say this. You hate me. You are too kind to say so. Sorry I told our stories. Sorry I am so small. Sorry I haven’t thanked you for sacrifice. For stereo and dolls and English and correcting my stutter and the big slumber party with all the gift bags. Sorry I vomited in the wash drain. Sorry I left. Sorry I came back. I’m sorry you still get so angry. Sorry I struck back. Sorry I loved you so hard—then turned like a coin that has run out of spin. I’m sorry the rock opened that boy’s forehead. Sorry I cursed you. Sorry I wouldn’t let you hit me anymore. I’m sorry I lied. Sorry I couldn’t tell you. Sorry I am a coward. My skin has started to yellow. My neck is curving into an ampersand. I’m sorry we can’t talk about it. I sorry we can’t talk. Sorry the world kicked you so hard. I’m sorry he’s sick, mama. Sorry all I can do is worry what happens next. Sorry I wrote the poems. Sorry I stopped calling. Sorry I don’t visit. Sorry you never wanted me. I can’t be fixed. We can’t laugh. I’m sorry I don’t need you like other girls. There’s so much decay in these bones. There are no grandchildren. Sorry I failed. Sorry I am alone. I’m sorry alone is easier than talking to you. I’m sorry it comes like this. Flood and undertow. Sorry I can’t sit comfortably in the same room. That I twitch like a startled moth. Sorry I came out hard and sharp and full of claws. Ruined your body. Only learned the wrong things. I’m sorry you’re so far. Sorry I have no intention of coming to find you.
I’m sorry I don’t call.” —Jeanann Verle, Genetics of Regret (via conor-broberst)
Calling the bank at 4:30 in the morning
the guy who picks up is clearly wanting to be OVERLY ENTHUSIASTIC AND MERRY because he has to answer phonecalls at four fucking thirty in the morning.
Thanks for making me a bit more calm though! and hopefully I should be able to access my accounts by monday
so I can pay the 12000 I have in debt lel buy sis a present.
This is one of the most disturbing scenes in the whole of Tudors. I always cringe at it :(
this is me in the GOT fandom right now
Oi! Ole, you’re invited as well.
CAKE FOR EVERYONE
It’s big sis’ birthday today,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY <3
You’re invited to my place for cake and presents in a week or so.
(Or, y’know. When you have time. :D)
and I’m cleaning my flat because he’s (supposedly) coming over tomorrow and he can’t see my room looking like it’s currently looking. because I’m perfect, clean and not the least depressed. o/
did I mention he’s like
He just turned 19
he’s a baby
but he’s a legal baby.
oh this fanfiction has an interesting summary and it’s even complete let’s see wha
“I got up”
clicks out of tab
So after having a really rough day because of the whole drama. (Seriously, this is some 8th grade bs) I didn’t really think I’d feel any better/worse.
and I guess feeling nothing at all is either of those.
4 hours ago, he told me he’d been thinking about everything and that he’d tell his “friend” to accept him making his own choices. Which basically means.. he still wants to be with me - or values me enough to spend time with me to see if she is right about me or not.
He went to say “She’s just jealous because you’re together with her bestfriend”
Hold a minute.
I JUST CANT ANYMORE. I GIVE UP.
(but I’m happy. somewhat. ._. Idk. man. I JUST DONT WANT TO GET MY HOPES UP)
Go to Starbucks. Order coffee for “Prisoner 24601”
When they call out your order, jump up and yell “My name is Jean Valjean!”
And if the barista replies with “AND I’M JAVERT,” you tip that motherfucker so hard
you tip them right over the edge of a bridge
you fucking didn’t