May 2012
My friends: I like tall boys
My friends: I like short boys
My friends: I like pretty boys
My friends: I like smart boys
My friends: I like athletic boys
My friends: I like boys who can sing
My friends: I like boys who are sweet
My friends: I like boys who are funny
My friends: I like boys with blue eyes
My friends: I like boys with green eyes
My friends: I like boys with brown eyes
My friends: I like older boys
My friends: I like boys with blonde hair
My friends: I like boys with brown hair
My friends: I like boys with black hair
My friends: I like boys that like to cuddle
My friends: I like boys that are challenging
My friends: I like good boys
My friends: I like bad boys
My friends: I like boys with cars
My friends: I like boys with money
My friends: I like boys who smile
My friends: I like boys who breathe.
Me:
My friends:
Me:
My friends:
Me: Dood, don't look at me. I just like One Direction
April 2012
author: she didn't want to eat dinner because she doesn't like chicken noodle soup
english teacher: even though it doesn't say it, we can infer that 17 years ago she encountered an attack from chickens while on a trip to africa visiting her great aunt who was dying from pneumonia which she got from chickens that were being harvested for the great feast
Teenage Expectations: A big group of friends, sneaking out of my house, making out, late nights under the stars, crying on my best friend's shoulder, passing notes in class, going on adventures, getting out of my town, campfires, telling secrets, feeling what it's like to fall in love, not caring about how you look, not caring about people's opinions, road trips, parties, driving around, getting lost, endless laughter, happiest years.
Teenage Reality: Feeling lonely, staying in, waking up early, going to school, worrying about your looks, worrying about your weight, crying over people's crudeness, crying far too often, school, homework, bitches, people trying to ruin things in your life to make you unhappy, being stressed, trapped in the town I hate, feeling nothing remotely close to love, keeping every little emotion bottled up, spending too much time on the internet, waiting for the better years to come to you.
if i ever get kidnapped: how will i update my blog
bringing harry to meet my parents.
zap-with-styles:
me: hi, mom. dad. id like you to meet my boyfriend harry.
harry:
mom:
dad:
me: so why don’t you tell them about yourself babe! :)
harry:
parents:
me:
harry:
parents:
harry:
me:
parents:
harry:
parents:
me:
harry:
