a poem about finals
F - Fuck.
I - I’m fucked.
N - No fucking way I’m ready
A - Aw fucking shit.
L - le fuck.
S - Save me from this fuckery.
(via etangerine)
(Source: sanchezalexis9, via xavilicious)
in 7 years its going to be the 20s again so we can bring back swing music and the aesthetics of that era but keep modern values who’s with me
(via crawlinback2u)
(Source: madridistaforever, via light-upthew0rld)
Big flashy things have my name written all over them. Well… not yet, give me time and a crayon.
(Source: karengillani, via youmetardisnow)
