hello shalala. my name is Molly, 17 years old. depression and all that jazz. feel free to talk to me anytime. i'm not a bitch all the time.
dude i don’t even believe this i know i just reblogged it like ten minutes ago but oh my god this baby eats shit from like 4ft in the air and nobody cares this is literally the funniest thing i’ve ever seen in my life
I can’t recover because moving on means repression and recovery means dwelling. I’m stuck. I feel like everyone wants me to get over it and no one understands why I can’t.
my brain: there is literaly a 0 percent chance the fictional shit from creepy games will show up irl in your kitchen
me: but its dark and scary
This scares me.
but imagine going into a store and being like “yes i need three thousand knives”