today is my 22nd birthday, which officially concludes my celebration weekend. i had lots of fun, but now it’s time to resume my daily routine of self-loathing/extreme doubt/fear that no one will ever love me 

vanillish:

writing deep things on your cigarettes like “die young” or “why did they change aunt vivian halfway through fresh prince of bel air like did they think no one would notice”

(via simpleflan)