Mike Driver
YOU ARE THE REASON
Misplaced Lens Cap
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

tannertan36
Stranger Things

Kaledo Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
h
almost home
One Nice Bug Per Day

roma★
No title available
dirt enthusiast
Game of Thrones Daily
styofa doing anything

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
ojovivo

Discoholic 🪩
wallacepolsom

seen from Hungary
seen from Australia

seen from France

seen from Germany
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from Italy

seen from Türkiye

seen from T1

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Hungary
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from Hungary

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
@repileptic-blog
dating me means dating my anxiety and my random spouts of depression it means dating my panic attacks at 11pm or 2 am or 5am or anytime of the day for that matter it means dating my mood swings where i get really upset over everything about me and all my insecurities and how i’m not good enough because i’m never good enough
My sister told me that when she was little and saw white people in make up commercials and never black people, she thought it was just because white people were ugly and black people were beautiful and didn’t need make up
^ I never thought about it that way!
Be with someone who sexts you at family gatherings
I still get sad about everything that happened. Every now and then it just hits me. Sometimes, it takes days for me to get over it.
Unknown
me: enters nice store
me: walks straight to clearance section
How strange it is. We have these deep terrible lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. The feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? We drive a car, we teach a class. How is it no one sees how deeply afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?
Don DeLillo