someday never comes is a tumblelog.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

I AM SO TIRED.

TELL ME ABOUT IT. I AM LITERALLY JUST EXHAUSTED, YOU KNOW?

WORN RIGHT OUT.

POOPED. THAT’S WHAT I AM. JUST PLAIN POOPED.

I MUST HAVE LOOKED AT A HUNDRED THOUSAND AVENGERS GIFS IN THE LAST HOUR.

OH MY GOD, I KNOW. I CAN’T EVEN COUNT THE NUMBER OF GOTYE REMIXES I LISTENED TO TODAY.

THE INTERNET IS HARD.

IT TAKES SOMETHING OUT OF YOU. IT REALLY DOES.

Uh huh. Exactly.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

YOU HAVEN’T COME OUT OF THERE IN ALMOST TWO DAYS. YOU SMELL FUNNY. YOUR EYES  ARE AS RED AS MY EX’S PENIS. YOUR CRYING KEEPS THE NEIGHBORS AWAKE, AND THERE ARE ENOUGH KLEENEX ON THE FLOOR TO REVERSE ENGINEER A TREE, NOT TO MENTION YOU NEED TO GO TO WORK IF YOU WANT TO CONTINUE TO BE ABLE TO AFFORD HBO.

LOOK, I LIKED RENLY TOO, OKAY? HE WOULD HAVE MADE A PRETTY GOOD KING, BUT YOU’VE GOT TO MOVE ON. THIS ISN’T HEALTHY.

Yes. This is for @rural_juror I believe.

Yup.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

SORRY, I WAS A MILLION MILES AWAY. SOMETIMES THE CRASH OF THE WAVES IS ALMOST LIKE A LANGUAGE, DON’T YOU THINK? WHISPERS, FULL OF THE SECRETS OF THE PAST, A CODE TO BE DECIPHERED. LIFE BEGAN IN THE SEA, AFTER ALL. WHAT MYSTERIES STILL LIE IN ITS DEPTHS? WHAT ANCIENT PUZZLES CRY OUT FOR SOLUTIONS, WOULD WE BUT LISTEN? SOMETIMES AT NIGHT I DREAM OF IT. THE OCEAN, I MEAN. DISSOLVING INTO IT, MERGING WITH IT, ABANDONING THIS PRISON OF MEAT AND THE BURDEN OF SINGULAR CONSCIOUSNESS, UNMAKING MY BODY, RETURNING TO THE BOSOM OF THE DEEP.

I’M SORRY. I’VE BEEN DRINKING ALL MORNING. DO I EVEN KNOW YOU?

… WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD NOW.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

I DIDN’T MEAN TO REACT LIKE THAT.

EAT A DICK.

I JUST WASN’T EXPECTING IT AND I OVERREACTED.

YOU CALLED ME AN ABOMINATION AND QUOTED LEVITICUS.

I KNOW. I GOT CARRIED AWAY. BUT … YOU SERIOUSLY … YOU KNOW? PREFER THAT?

ALWAYS HAVE, ALWAYS WILL UNTIL I DIE.

MAYBE IT’S JUST A PHASE YOU’RE GOING THROUGH.

I’M TWENTY.

IT’S UNNATURAL.

THEY TASTE BETTER.

THAT’S DISGUSTING.

IT’S TRUE.

BROWN SUGAR CINNAMON POP TARTS DO NOT TASTE BETTER THAN STRAWBERRY.

THEY DO TO ME, AND I’D APPRECIATE AN APOLOGY.

Me too.