I’ve got an 18 year old crying about a thunderstorm, waking me up at 5:39 when I only fell asleep around half past two. I could kill her.
this, was my baby. but i mean, i just don’t know what i’m doing with it anymore..like, do i just ramble? become another piss poor fashion blog? obviously the music scene didn’t captivate me long enough…i had/have a lot of loyal readers (who’ve actually e-mailed me about returning) and i feel kinda terrible. i’m not going to revamp the layout until next year, and if it even makes it that far, only then will i update my subscription for the domain.
the constant struggle between being hungry and not wanting to cook is unbearably real.
how is it that i can go from talking to fifteen fucking people all day, then once a certain moment of the night hits, everyone’s gone? these are the parts of night that i’ve grown to loathe.
problem of my fucking life.
at some point, even though i was getting my picture taken, i had to close my eyes and smile because the flash was so bloody bright. i felt like i was in flash forward at one point. also, that chair was so bloody huge, that i was almost swallowed.
watching the avengers, manicure and pedicure in the process. nice to do something for myself.
ashley/roxanne has promised to perfect my bachata if i make it to nyc this summer. she better not hold out on me.
(Source : vstaysskemin, via retroplatano)
