I could totally do this. But better.
She dated Chris Martin. I listened to “A Rush of Blood to the Head” on repeat throughout most of middle school.
“Yeah, but everyone in that book is a total asshole. Don’t get me wrong, LOVE it, but ALL assholes.”
Your Beat-Up White Converse: Life is dirty. And so are these shoes. If you stopped to fret over each and every of life’s scuffs, scrapes, or stains, you’d never leave the house.
I made you a playlist. I hope that’s not too much since we just met via the Internet, but you know what is too much? Requesting this song, and only this song, at every party, barbecue, and family get-together you have attended this summer.
Every shot looks like a fucking painting. Or a poem. A painting of a poem?
She is the first woman to sit on the Iron Throne.
Like every Millennial I’ll want a medal just for participating.
Someone help me. Please.
All of this goes on my face?
And it costs how much?