And love is a murderer. Love is a murderer. But if she calls you tonight, everything is all right. And love is a curse shoved in a hearse. Love is an open book to a verse of your bad poetry, and this is coming from me.
But I can change, I can change, I can change, I can change. I can change, I can change, I can change If it helps you fall in love.
I ruined it; I’m sorry. I saw you that first day and wanted to change myself. I lost my mind trying to tell you things without telling you. You’re the best. You’re fall in Berchtesgaden. I’m fucked up. Sorry.
The thing about knitting is it’s much harder to fear the existential futility of all your actions while you’re doing it.
Like ok, sure, sometimes it’s hard to believe you’ve made any positive impact on the world. But it’s pretty easy to believe you’ve made a sock. Look at it. There it is. Put it on, now your foot’s warm.
Checkmate, nihilism.
This is how I feel about cooking sometimes.
Maybe I can’t fix everything – hell, maybe I can’t fix anything – but look, I made soup; look, I made bread; look, now there’s dinner.
the concept presented in this Sesame Street bit that a family can be two non–explicitly heterosexually gendered adults and their child turned me into a lesbian. also, I’m going to sing this song to the cats.
these aliens were my absolute favorite other than, inexplicably, Rosita. this is so important
must a sport be entertaining to watch? 