If you can find a dog at a party, you’ll spend all of your time on the floor with it. It beats having small talk with strangers that you’ll probably never see again.
I know it’s only a matter of time until I crack and contact you. Until I break my streak of acting like you’re a stranger.
It looked like blood, except it was the wrong color. Too thick. It almost felt like the slime we used to play with as kids. The kind that stuck to the wall and crawled its way down.
I find something to complain about, even when my life is going well. Even when the only complaints I have are about petty little things, things that most people would call me crazy for even noticing.
You’re always counting down. You keep track of the days until vacation. The hours until you can climb back into bed. The minutes left until the show you’re watching is over. You keep looking at the clock and calendar instead of enjoying what’s right in front of you.
She’s too smart to deal with mixed signals and men that go MIA.
Liking you hurts. It hurts when you take too long to text back. It hurts when you say you’re too busy to see her. It hurts when you put other people first.
Virgo: You would freak out and beg one of your most trusted friends to come rescue you, to tell you what to do next.
Whenever you get excited about a date, he either cancels on you or ends up having a fight with you that ruins the memory of the night. Something always goes wrong.
“The first person wheeled in… just didn’t seem to have a head. There was this bloody mass at the top of his neck but it didn’t look human.”