yaramaznick:

this is a picture of the happiest moment of my entire life.

i’ve been sitting here staring at this picture for at least 25 minutes, realising that it has in fact all been downhill since this moment.

(today, coincidentally, happens to be the anniversary of the first time i met her here in istanbul.)

i’m putting off packing by listening to woody guthrie and making jorts. ALSO I AM GOING TO TURKEY TOMORROWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

i haven’t felt this awful since that time i got roofied

i’m sick and on nyquil someone make me well ok thank you

i think buying a bunch of tank tops like this may have been a bad idea on account of i am a skinny and pale shithead

Wedding bound~*~

When I’m this stressed out and things have gotten tough, it’s a good thing I’ve got Gerard Piqué to cheer me up and tell me I’m pretty.

valentine’s day is coming up, and i am going into it single and happy. the impulse to mope is easy, but when it comes down to it, i’m really fucking awesome, and i don’t need anyone’s validation for that to continue being true. i’m smart, i’m interesting, i’m driven, i play the banjo (not very well, admittedly)—in short, i’ve got my shit together. ain’t nobody gonna bring me down.

sometimes i can gussy up something nice. see y’all on the flip side~

this haircut is really just the best thing that’s ever happened.

sometimes life is really cool and you get to go to an island 180 miles off the southern coast of vietnam and you find a shipwreck. sometimes everything is perfect.

Eric made me a whiskey sour and now I’m watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire with him and Danny and Shawn and not writing my paper! <3

(pictured: me, Eric’s whiskey sour, and Danny)

at my dad’s house in texas:

• i look (and feel) like a snuggie dad
• i wish i had a reason for my hair to be this messy—i don’t
• my parents still don’t think i consume alcohol even though i have told them outright
• this pillow smells like dog
• this pillow is not you
• et cetera
• i AM a snuggie dad
  

one of the worst things about being home for thanksgiving is talking with that kid you had a crush on in high school, the one you never got around to dating even though if anyone in your fucked up hometown would have been the perfect couple, it was the two of you, and he went off to school and you did too, you both have your own lives and lead them and have all your own shit to deal with, but at the end of the day, when you’re home on thanksgiving, it’s the two of you talking about how maybe, just maybe, one day, there’ll really be the two of you.

gpoy pouting because everyone is the worst, i woke up four hours ago, i think everyone’s awful, and i just want to ride my bicycle until the end of the world edition.