I managed to lose my pen halfway through an essay and apparently there arent any more in the house. RIP that essay I guess...
that feeling when your, let's say, crush gets to know you're German and suddenly he likes you more than before and just doesn't want to leave you alone. <. < not like there was something from it, no. also, being male doesn't mean holding the powers. I'm just good at acting tough. (and kind of I am anyway, but still...)
It's been almost a year and it still hurts like hell. Hearing about it, thinking about it, feels like someone's twisting a knife in my heart. I am, of course, talking about when we played Liverpool in the Europa League, where our guys decided to blow a 3-1 lead at Anfield to lose 4-3 in stoppage time in the quarterfinals. On top of that, it was a Liverpool side that was coached by our much-beloved former coach so it only hurt worse. I genuinely wish I could forget that match ever happened. It's so stupid that it still stings a year later. ...what, you thought I was talking about something serious, like someone dying or something?
I can’t predict what I’ll do. I can never be sure I am terrified of making promises any more I can’t face my work, I feel sick from the word I genuinely believe I’m capable of changing the world I still think I can get better I still think I can create and get pleasure from it I'll keep aiming to make my emotion and my logic agree And become the best version of me I don’t want to stop
Someone revived an old thread and I came across a rant of mine that was almost exactly a year ago, minus two days. The rant wasn't as funny as I remembered it, but one line still got me cracking up. I'm terrible. I'm sitting here laughing at something I wrote. Because at the time it wasn't meant to be a joke but now I'm just like "Did I really write that in all seriousness?" :roflmao: Also, got done working out earlier and I've got this muscle rub I put on afterwards, right? Supposed to help with the soreness. Well, the stuff smells kind of menthol-y and I went upstairs earlier to do something, and I'm in the kitchen and my dad walks in from outside and makes a remark (not rudely, but still) about how strong it is, because he thinks it smells funny. What? You're standing there after coming in from your smoke break reeking of cigarettes and you want to talk to me about how I'm the one that smells funny? :dry:
One of the hardest things about finally getting the right diagnosis is going back and having to try and clean up the messes you made beforehand.