saw a super fobby looking asian kid with the meanest hickey on his neck at the dining hall. i wanted to give him a high five
i hate my roomate
you know what’s fucked up?
that you can be without someone for six months, a year, five years and have mastered not thinking about them, but no matter how much time passes there will always be that moment where you see a photo of them or catch a little of their cologne on a crowed street and suddenly you’re plagued with a rapidly sinking stomach and the relentless question, “what did i do wrong?”
i want to know you
like really know you
woke up in time for breakfast, what alternate universe is this?