I like that I have a drawer filled with empty sweet wrappers, paramax and paracetamol.
Describes me perfectly.
"So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s gonna be really hard. We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, for ever, you and me, every day. Will you do something for me, please? Just picture your life for me? 30 years from now, 40 years from now? What’s it look like? If it’s with him, go. Go! I lost you once, I think I can do it again. If I thought that’s what you really wanted. But don’t you take the easy way out."
It’s snowed. Tumblr’s given me reindeer antlers and red nose for my icon. Our tree & lights are up. There are presents under the tree. We’ve broken up from school. The Christmas films on telly have started.
Yet it still doesn’t feel like Christmas..
I have an actual playlist for when I do coursework/revision. Not that I ever do either.
I’ve never had a song/band/artist that I can’t listen to because of someone. People don’t seem to have that sort of effect on me.
(via theskeletonparty)
isn’t that his mum? the eyelashes?
Isn’t that a tablecloth? Are penguins not allowed to have tablecloths now? :|
Mum, the phone’s ringing. You’re sat next to it. I’m upstairs and I can hear it. Just answer it and put your PMS on hold for a second? Thanks.
Pingu's dad is always ironing because that is his job.
He runs an ironing service.
He doesn’t make much money, but the family get by alright.
I’m pretty sure I’ve used half a tissue box today and I’ve only been up for an hour or two.
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