I want to dye my hair
I want to dye my hair,
Again.
Something dark, something not like this.
Something to make me look older.
I look like a twelve year old, with messy brown hair.
I’m 15.
Not twelve.
English Teacher: Now I want you to tell me the saddest love story you have ever encountered.
Me: Well, it all began when two babies were born in a different place and time. The boy grew up to be a successful young man who roams around the world to showcase his talent while the girl stayed in the sea of faces who admired him. He doesn't know her, but she knows him, from his real name to what his favorite color is. She sends him love letters, even if she's aware that he won't be able to read it and she has to pay loads of money just to watch him perform for a few hours. That pattern goes on and on, unceasingly. The boy continues to walk in his dream, while the girl could only look at him with pure admiration, and sadly, that's how it'll end. The boy...will never know just how much the girl loves him.
English Teacher: That's quite sad.
Me: Oh, the life of a fangirl really is sad, Teach.
English Teacher: What
Me: What
normal people: so what we get drunk, so what we smoke weed, we're just having fun we don't care who sees
me: so what we reblog, so what we don't sleep, we're running a blog we don't care who sees... unless you're from school gtfo
