animalstalkinginallcaps:

YOU KNOW WHEN YOU’RE JUST DRIVING AROUND OR YOU’RE IN H&M OR SOMETHING AND SOME STUPID SONG COMES ON AND IT JUST DIGS UP ALL THESE FEELINGS THAT YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WERE BURIED IN THE SEDIMENT AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR HEART AND YOU’RE JUST SITTING AT A RED LIGHT OR FONDLING A SWEATER AND YOU START GETTING THE WEEPS? LIKE YOUR EYES JUST START LEAKING AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT THE WAY YOUR EX’S HAIR SMELLED OR A T-SHIRT THEY HAD THAT WAS FALLING APART AND IT’S JUST AVRIL LAVIGNE’S ‘MY HAPPY ENDING’ OR FUCKING HALL & OATES OR SOMETHING AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU’RE CRYING, LET ALONE CRYING TO THE MUSICAL EQUIVALENT OF A STICK OF GUM, AND YOU START THINKING ABOUT TIME MACHINES AND L’ESPIRIT DE L’ESCALIER OR RILKE QUOTES OR WHATEVER AND THE SALESGIRL IS JUST LOOKING AT YOU LIKE, “WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” AND YOU WANT TO SCREAM, “SOMETIMES I FEEL FEELINGS, YOU PERT, JUDGMENTAL EATING DISORDER BILLBOARD! LEAVE ME ALONE!” BUT YOU DON’T, YOU JUST PUT THE SWEATER BACK OR THE LIGHT CHANGES AND YOU GO ON ABOUT YOUR DAY AND THE FEELING FADES BUT YOU WONDER FOR HOURS WHAT ELSE IS BURIED DOWN THERE, WAITING FOR A RYAN ADAMS SONG OR A STARBUCKS COMMERCIAL TO DISLODGE IT AND RUIN YOUR WHOLE EVENING?
BASICALLY THAT.
I’M LIKE A TICKING TIME BOMB OF USELESS NOSTALGIA FOR THINGS THAT PROBABLY NEVER EXISTED. 
FORGET ABOUT IT. I’LL BE FINE IN TEN MINUTES. LET’S JUST GET A LATTÉ AND GO TO SEPHORA. I’M ALMOST OUT OF MASCARA.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

YOU KNOW WHEN YOU’RE JUST DRIVING AROUND OR YOU’RE IN H&M OR SOMETHING AND SOME STUPID SONG COMES ON AND IT JUST DIGS UP ALL THESE FEELINGS THAT YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WERE BURIED IN THE SEDIMENT AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR HEART AND YOU’RE JUST SITTING AT A RED LIGHT OR FONDLING A SWEATER AND YOU START GETTING THE WEEPS? LIKE YOUR EYES JUST START LEAKING AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT THE WAY YOUR EX’S HAIR SMELLED OR A T-SHIRT THEY HAD THAT WAS FALLING APART AND IT’S JUST AVRIL LAVIGNE’S ‘MY HAPPY ENDING’ OR FUCKING HALL & OATES OR SOMETHING AND YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU’RE CRYING, LET ALONE CRYING TO THE MUSICAL EQUIVALENT OF A STICK OF GUM, AND YOU START THINKING ABOUT TIME MACHINES AND L’ESPIRIT DE L’ESCALIER OR RILKE QUOTES OR WHATEVER AND THE SALESGIRL IS JUST LOOKING AT YOU LIKE, “WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” AND YOU WANT TO SCREAM, “SOMETIMES I FEEL FEELINGS, YOU PERT, JUDGMENTAL EATING DISORDER BILLBOARD! LEAVE ME ALONE!” BUT YOU DON’T, YOU JUST PUT THE SWEATER BACK OR THE LIGHT CHANGES AND YOU GO ON ABOUT YOUR DAY AND THE FEELING FADES BUT YOU WONDER FOR HOURS WHAT ELSE IS BURIED DOWN THERE, WAITING FOR A RYAN ADAMS SONG OR A STARBUCKS COMMERCIAL TO DISLODGE IT AND RUIN YOUR WHOLE EVENING?

BASICALLY THAT.

I’M LIKE A TICKING TIME BOMB OF USELESS NOSTALGIA FOR THINGS THAT PROBABLY NEVER EXISTED. 

FORGET ABOUT IT. I’LL BE FINE IN TEN MINUTES. LET’S JUST GET A LATTÉ AND GO TO SEPHORA. I’M ALMOST OUT OF MASCARA.