maybe i should send you a bill for all my time you wasted
Because alcohol tastes better than tears.
I want to move into an apartment in Manhattan with white floors and big windows. Drink Coffee in central park with my best friend and gossip about that bitch yesterday. Work at a fashion house. Go to a bar downtown with all of my friends on the weekends. Wear my boyfriend’s shirt at home, but extravagant clothes when I go out. And last, but not least - I want to be the type of person, people turn around on the streets and go “she’s someone”.
Someday, someone is going to look at you with a light in their eyes you’ve never seen, they’ll look at you like you’re everything they’ve been looking for their entire lives. Wait for it.
The Fault In Our Sombreros.
Nacho average love story.
it’s spelled olé not olay you illiterate fuck this ain’t the fault in our lotions