I legitimately don’t know how to make friends.
Like, I don’t get when it’s acceptable to ask for phone numbers and I hate texting in the first place and like I don’t want to talk to anyone all the time and being around people is exhausting unless we’re like joined at the hip which comes with time but I’m impatient. And I don’t know what were supposed to talk about and stuff.
my life is pathetic.
Why can’t I just think and feel normal things? Why is that so impossible?
Kurt Vonnegut is probably that one person I’d go back in time and meet.
He gets it.
I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.
I plan on having no less than a dozen basset hounds when I grow up..
