That moment when you manage to sound both like a communist and an anarchist in the same essay.
Nothing makes you feel fancy like cooking with wine. That’s right bitch. Chicken Cacciatore. With mushrooms. Suck it.
So yeah… woohoo for being single. I guess.
Sometimes things just don’t work out I guess…
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein. (via hellhathnoregret)
Oh my god. Sing it sister. I want this in tattoo form… ribs?
Sometimes, when I’m feeling a little too good about myself, I watch clips of Svetlana Zakharova dancing. About 8 seconds is enough to have me curled up in a fetal position, desperately trying to rethink my life.
I believe this is an appropriate moment to say “True dat”.