I can’t think of anything but nights with you.
I just want someone who won’t get annoyed when I text them six times or in all caps. Someone I can go on long drives with and can sing along to the radio with. Someone I can eat pizza with at 2am and kiss at 6pm. Someone who chooses me everyday and never thinks twice about it.
Okay no. Fucking no. You think your sandwich is cute with peanut butter and jelly hearts, fucker? Well you’ll change your mind once you put it together and try to eat it. First you’ll get a mouthful of just bread and disappointment, then when you take another bite your mouth will be assaulted by copious the amounts of sticky peanut butter and sugary jelly and there won’t be enough bread to save you from it. A sandwich like that is what failure tastes like. The pb and j may be shaped like hearts but there’s no love in that sandwich. It’s about balance. Life needs balance, and so does your fucking sandwich. You disgust me. Don’t talk to me until you know how to make a proper sandwich.