in the south we don’t say “you’re a dumb fuck” we say “bless your heart” and i think that’s beautiful.
Source: smalltownbigguy
Fun fact: Pyjamas are totally thermals for those of us who can’t afford expensive pieces insulation. And you’re already wearing them when you get dressed in the morning. And, hey, pyjamas!
Do all chances have a strain of immortality to them?
Do all choices have to mean I step on someone’s toes?
For so long my heart’s known what to do, where to go. Why must the fog descend now, obscuring my future?
Sometimes, just sometimes, I really hate this town.
I’m sailing across the fucking Alantic.
I’m going to be in Antigua in fucking TWO days.
I was only offered the trip a fucking day ago. Now my flights have been booked and I’m going to be joining three experienced sailors for a month long voyage across the fucking Alantic.
Why, why I was even recommended is beyond me. It’s a private voyage, run by the best friend of a skipper I’ve only sailed with for, like, a week. Why he dropped my name in and thought I was competant enough to sail 4,000 miles is just beyond me.
I’m still in fucking shock. Never before in my life did I even dream this would happen. I never thought I would sail the Alantic, and certainly not at 18.
Fuck.
I need to stop with this terrible music taste recently. I need to purge with, like, a decent loop of Fleetwood Mac or something. Ah well.
I’m gonna pop some tags, I got twent’ dollars in mah pocket…
Idon’twanttogohomeinthreeweekstime,Idon’twanttogohomeinthreeweekstime,Idon’twanttogohomeinthreeweekstime.
Fuck.
Wow.
I forgot how much I hated this town. Gods.
I didn’t realise stuff like this happened in real life. Like, people like me don’t get free tickets to see a band, and especially not a big one like the Kasier Chiefs.
Nor do they get to meet them a day before in the pub.
HAL: I’m afraid. I’m afraid, Dave. Dave, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going.
(via do-you-have-a-flag)
Source: brothertedd
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