Another Famous..

Another Famous..

   6/11/2015       Unknown

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So it's 5 am, I'm thinking about Gilmore Girls and how underrated Paris Geller was, and feeling all sad and stuff. So, blog post?

I feel you, I really do. 

First off, sorry about the domain change. I just thought it shouldn't be the same as my Tumblr blog. Plus, it was too long for my tastes. So I'm hoping it was too long for your tastes, too! If not, truly sorry.

So, I personally believe that either my readers belong to two groups. The people who either want to murder me or people who are basically superheros. If you want to murder me, here's a list of a playlist I made when I was 13 or 14 on YouTube which will totally make you want to murder me even more than you already do. I ask to be murdered to you playing one of the videos on there. 

To all the superheroes: you go! You seriously got your sh*t together and I love you! I also love the people who want to murder me, unless you're that person who said it on Tumblr. I get it, you don't like me. Sometimes I used to not like me. But now I work hard so I do. 

I guess I'm experiencing a, "I fuck shit up with others and I know things would be better if I didn't, so I wish I couldn't" type of mood right now and it's killing me. It's absolutely killing me more than the murderers reading this post right now probably want to.

I guess I like to test limits with people until they leave. Which is screwed up, but oh well, I guess. It's just a part of.. me. I have a few close friends that I would never do this to (and I'm sure they know who they are) and I'm glad the only thing they judge me for is staying up until the sun rises rewatching television shows. 

And I'm amazed at the murderers and superheroes who don't do that. I'm amazed that there's people out there who can keep people who aren't exactly good friends in their social group for more than a year. I just.. I suck. I suck at not asking you how you feel. I'm not good at being there for you, but it's okay, because you're not good at being there for me, either.

You, though, reader? You're awesome. You're like, spouse-material, I'm sure. Unless you're that murderer. 

I realize I need sleep. Fuck.