the always adverts annoy the hell out of me. who has ever had a ‘happy period’ ?! crack heads. theres no dignity in having a womb. wish i could take it out, do a walt disney and freeze it, then when i feel like popping a mini-me out, just put my lady bits back in. what do i need them for now aaaaaaaah wheres my feminax
as if my mum’s in the shower singing the ‘do your boobs hang low’ song
I SHIT YOU NOT
don’t bother with anyone who can’t be bothered with you
sir gideon and the new layout
new layout and shit! yeah its pink, dont know why its come out so girly - im not feeling girly at the moment with a face like a dot to dot puzzle and panda eyes but yano. also i put a cursor on, i’ve called him gideon. not sure why, it felt right for some reason. three cheers for gut instinct and gideon! feel free to rename him for personal purposes.
ahh i need to go to sleep.. once i’ve finished adele’s album.
yet to find a boy who doesn’t think with his dick..
the joys of being replaced with a filthly little slag. not bitter about it at all tho.
"I wondered if that’s what it was all about. Friends. People you know. People you used to know. People you think you once knew, but you probably never did. You probably just knew a part of them, the part of them that was your friend. And the rest, the parts of them that you didn’t know - the twisted parts, the untrue parts, the parts you’re seeing now - well, back then you just ignored them."
i get upset at night, when im laid in bed. all my worries and saddness come creeping up out of the little cravises in my brain to torment me. and i think ‘i could really do with tumblr’ so i can write about everything that’s plaguing me, but i don’t feel like climbing down from my bunk bed, plugging in the laptop and waiting for it to load up. so i just lay and wait for that sleepy haze to take me off to the land of nod. i’m one of those people who feel really crushed by things, genuinely desperate. then i’m okay. i’ve felt sad, acknowledged how i feel.. then subconsiously put things back in there little cravises and feel fine. talking does. not. help. it makes me more upset. i’d rather be alone to work through how i feel, but sometimes even an ice queen needs help, and writing does that for me. yet once i’m okay, i don’t feel like writing, and i probably don’t get that release i need.
my sisters fiance thinks africa is in america & test tube babies are grown in test tubes for 9 months
he’s 23. i worry for my future neice/nephew xD
si pudiera ser tu heroe
i wanna have your babies, get serious like crazyyy. cannot get these lyrics out of my little head. even though they’re pretty stupid. lets show how serious we are, impregnate me. i feel so sickly too, kfc and a big ass cupcake. damn you beautiful fatty food heh im obviously not as dedicated to losing weight and getting fit as i like to think i am.
i have started swimming again though. im like usain bolt. in water. lol jk an o.a.p swam past me other day. didnt half piss on my bonfire. like most things recently. feels like everyone around me seems to be in a relationship or seeing someone? bringing down my single lady hype. whaaaaaaaaat the.
thought id write something to warm my hands up before they start going blue and its just turned into a self pitying moan. so im’a just listen to some more of enrique inglesias’ sexy spanish singing. ah damn if i could have sex with his voice, i would. or even just him in general. not fussy. maybe he could sing at the same time. …
minds starting to wonder now