My...Mother just called me the “normal” one out of me and my estranged cousins (they got away faster, yay). But like. If your standard for normal is the diseased cryptid standing in the corner, THE BAR IS IN HELL.
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My...Mother just called me the “normal” one out of me and my estranged cousins (they got away faster, yay). But like. If your standard for normal is the diseased cryptid standing in the corner, THE BAR IS IN HELL.
Chloé, from Love in the afternoon (1972)
Dir : Éric Rohmer
Seems to be a recurring thing.
asking to hang out in the groupchat and in response they're sending their inside jokes ignoring me completely and you feel like you're 11 again
i’ve reached new levels of depression never achieved before
Respect is tentative, Scratchy.