I can't fucking take it any more. Among Us has singlehandedly ruined my life. The other day my teacher was teaching us Greek Mythology and he mentioned a pegasus and I immediately thought 'Pegasus? more like Mega Sus!!!!' and I've never wanted to kms more. I can't look at a vent without breaking down and fucking crying. I can't eat pasta without thinking 'IMPASTA??? THATS PRETTY SUS!!!!' Skit 4 by Kanye West. The lyrics ruined me. A Mongoose, or the 25th island of greece. The scientific name for pig. I can't fucking take it anymore.
Please fucking end my suffering.
I can't fucking take it any more. Among Us has singlehandedly ruined my life. The other day my teacher was teaching us Greek Mythology and he mentioned a pegasus and I immediately thought 'Pegasus? more like Mega Sus!!!!' and I've never wanted to kms more. I can't look at a vent without breaking down and fucking crying. I can't eat pasta without thinking 'IMPASTA??? THATS PRETTY SUS!!!!' Skit 4 by Kanye West. The lyrics ruined me. A Mongoose, or the 25th island of greece. The scientific name for pig. I can't fucking take it anymore.
Please fucking end my suffering.
Kripp can't beat anyone
twitchquotes:My dad beats me My mom beats me My brother beats me My sister beats me At least I feel safe with Kripp, because he can't beat anyone
My dad beats me FeelsBadMan My mom beats me FeelsBadMan My brother beats me FeelsBadMan My sister beats me FeelsBadMan At least I feel safe with Kripp, because he can't beat anyone FeelsGoodMan
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."