I want to cry over the fact that Sharon Van Etten played a show in Toronto Tuesday night, and I wasn’t there despite the fact that I bought tickets the second they came out.
Break my fucking heart, school. It’s not like I care or anything. Nope—not one bit.
think. think. over-think. repeat.
Whitney. 21. I do not claim to be anything or anyone. I only know what I like, but even then, sometimes I don't know at all.
I enjoy rainy days, curling up under the covers, sleeping in, green tea, movies and books that make me cry, dancing in my bedroom, cuddling with my dog, scruffy men, girls in Doc Martens, getting lost in music, people-watching on the bus, comfortable silence, peeling dried glue off my fingertips, deep conversations, iced passion tea lemonade with light ice from Starbucks, whipped cream, Jeff Buckley, semi-colons, and all things cheese.
Last.fm: aka. StalkMyEardrums.com
What I do when I procrastinate.
