me, sitting on your ceiling fan: gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. it eludes us then, but that’s no matter-
you, smacking me with the broom: how the fuck did you get in my house
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If you’re overdressed people will just assume you’re coming from somewhere better or going somewhere better.
lorde’s new album makes me wanna… sit in the passenger seat of a car wearin comfy clothes while someone i love drives through a city late at night, my heart so full that it chokes me up and all i can do is rest my head against the cool window and just breathe and know i am alive, and that is enough for right now