adulthood is just a constant struggle of, “man, i want cookies for breakfast, but I also recognize this is a bad nutritional decision. On the other hand, the only one who can stop me is me. i know that fucker’s weaknesses. i could totally take me in a fight.”
I can’t wait to have my own home and never invite anybody over because everybody gets on my motherfucking nerves.
admit it, we’ve all fantasised about slow-dancing in the kitchen barefoot in our pyjamas at 2am in the arms of someone we love while old romantic jazz songs play softly on the radio
