i want to sleep for 2 years and wake up with a degree, an apartment and money in the bank.



You know how people buy drinks for girls in bars? Why can’t people do that in book stores? Like if I’m looking at a novel in Barnes and Noble and some person walks up to me and strikes up a conversation and offers to buy the book for me there is a lot better chance of that working out in their favor

I’m going to reblog this until it’s a cultural norm.


Women belong in the kitchen. Men belong in the kitchen. Everyone belongs in the kitchen. They are food. I am Hannibal Lecter.


I spend 800% of my life exaggerating 


Is anyone else completely terrified by the concept that you could, someday, meet someone who actually genuinely wants to spend the rest of their life in love with you?

"What’s my name in your language?"
white proverb  (via laughingnancy)