Err. More deontology. Meh.

Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong. But we think you’re crazy to make an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us. In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain, and an athlete, and a basket case, a princess, and a criminal. Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club.

The Breakfast Club (1985)

(Source: selenanbieber)

I’m telling everyone that I love that I love them. I want them to know that. I love them so so much and I can’t let them down. They mean so much to me, and I want them to know it.

If you’re feeling small, and you can’t draw a crowd, draw dicks on the wall.

Erase me.

Mm, anyway. I’m really sad. But it’s alright. I have a future. …right? Fuck. Well… I always have something to fall back on.

I’ll smoke cigarettes until I die.

Ben folds… Fuck I can’t even listen to him anymore. Hm. Well.

I got invited to a drug house for someone’s birthday. Practically two whole days of drugs with no supervision. Idk… Disasters happen this way. But drugs. Eek.

My dad told my brother that he was a pussy. He’s so disgusting.