SAVED, BITCHED
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I’m actually the coolest girlfriend ever, like I never get too angry with gloo when he does stupid shit, and I don’t smother him with texts because I know he’s a busy dude, and I even put on eyeliner so I can look all pretty when we Skype tonight. BUT I SWEAR TO GOD, PLEASE START LETTING ME KNOW WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO GET HOME OR I MIGHT HIT YOU WITH MY CAR. My sleep schedule is too fucked, dude.
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You make it incredibly difficult to talk to you
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(via anewuniverse)
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(via get-hyyer)
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(via saladxvxdays)
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Mom just watched me sprint around for an hour, freaking out about how my car won’t make it to Arlington. I think the past couple of days have definitely changed her perspective on how responsible I truly am.
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