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👻 do you believe in ghosts and why?
✧˖° &. taken from this &. in response to « @kcmikcze! »
« I don’t believe in ghosts. I’ve been raised to believe only what I can see, it’s kind of dumb, but that’s just how I work on this matter. I respect anyone who thinks otherwise, but as for me, ghosts, vampires and all these supernatural creatures don’t exist. Everything on this earth has been created for a purpose, flies eat garbage, spiders eat flies. What would be the purpose of ghosts? »
❛ mentally crafting incredibly angry speeches that i will never say to all the people i hate is my favorite hobby ❜ ( my finger slipped..)
meme ↻ @kcmikcze. ( still accepting! )
❝ because that’s soo much better than saying it to them. ❞ one might think Arizona was being sarcastic, but this time it wasn’t the case. in fact, mentally crafting all those things you could say, but never actually saying them out loud ( usually, unless you’re currently busy talking shit with a friend ) causes much less drama. imagine all the anger and yelling that would be followed by telling someone straight up that their whole existence was a waste of space. a soft smile is playing on her lips, arms crossed above her chest as she just looks into the distance. watching people – a thing she did way too often. ❝ i do imagine telling some people how you really think would be pretty fun. SOME people just deserve it, if you get what i mean. or who i mean, for that matter. ❞ now the former smile turns into a full on grin, eyes shifting back to the taller male, she looks– somewhat cheeky. ❝ i still think you should go out with in order to piss that ONE girl off. ❞
{ @kcmikcze let the evil in. }
Sprawled out across the bed, with her legs flailing back and forth in the air behind her, Daisie focuses all of her attention on Kingston rather than Lincoln. She doesn’t think he cares all that much, but she’s mad at him, and so she opts to using the silent treatment instead of raising her voice in fear of waking the sleeping best in the room across the hall, otherwise known as her father. Her mother had invited Lincoln over for dinner. She’d made food especially for him. He could have at least pretended to be happy, or grateful, or something other than pissy. So now, in her room, it’s her time to be pissy.
