some thoughts are so private that you only share them with a therapist or 17,000 people on the internet
She is not “my girl.”
She belongs to herself. And I am blessed, for with all her freedom, she still comes back to me, moment-to-moment, day-by-day, and night-by-night.
How much more blessed can I be?
i’d really like some wireless waterproof earbuds for shower time
*goes to Africa on a church mission* look at all these helpless african americans *digs hole for some reason* *hugs children but only in the presence of a camera* *flies back home in first class* i love me, i’m heavenbound and loving my cornrolls.
You never know how much they say “Wildcats” in High School Musical til you have to drink everytime they do.
I’m reblogging this not because they say Wildcats a lot but because we’re acting on the assumption that people who are old enough to drink sit around playing drinking games to HSM and that’s beautiful.