you may resume kissing the bride.

a chapterbook: *came with a stitched in ribbon bookmark, had a cloth spine, had those rough edged finished pages, or came with a map*

8 year old me: i am a 500 year old librarian and this is the most valuable book in my collection. i rescued it myself from a castle as it burned to the ground. *gingerly runs my little grubby hands down its spine and gazes wistfully out of the school bus window* i am the keeper of all civilization’s knowledge

me: [listens to a new song]

my brain, upon receiving one single hit of Döpamine™: we shall listen to only this song until we have wrung every last neurotransmitter out of it

There is something very special about driving around at 3-4 AM. Like, am I up ridiculously late? Am I up ridiculously early? The world may never know.

*sees other car* and what the FUCK are you doing up

Me talking to myself in the morning: okay bitch, get the fuck up

I have a type.

It’s called: Tall, dark, bitchy, and brooding.

I am not ashamed.

Sergeant, is there any way you can replace this large ball with a chair that is actually a chair?

i don’t think that a movie needs to be good in order for it to be good

me, dumping a load of freshly washed but unfolded laundry on my bed: boy i’m sure gonna be pissed about this when i want to go to bed

*passionately thinks about story instead of writing it*

Listen to me. You’ve got to jump.

Hello, old friend. And here we are. You and me, on the last page. By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we lived well and were very happy. And above all else, know that we will love you always. Sometimes I do worry about you though. I think once we’re gone you won’t be coming back here for awhile. And you might be alone. Which you should never be. Don’t be alone, Doctor. And do one more thing for me. There’s a little girl waiting in a garden. She’s going to wait a long while, so she’s going to need a lot of hope. Go to her. Tell her a story. Tell her that if she’s patient, the days are coming that she’ll never forget. Tell her she’ll go to see and fight pirates. She’ll fall in love with a man who’ll wait two thousand years to keep her safe. Tell her she’ll give hope to the greatest painter who ever lived. And save a whale in outer space. Tell her, this is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends.