quick summary: willy wonka and the chocolate factory
- boy: i hate being poor
- grandpa: were going to the fun factory
- mr chocolate: hello naughty children its murder time
I felt like crying but nothing came out. it was just a sort of sad sickness, sick sad, when you can’t feel any worse. I think you know it. I think everybody knows it now and then.
When I was a kid I used to ask my mom why my stomach hurt when I thought about why I was myself and not someone else. I thought it meant I wasn’t supposed to think about it.
Stoners are the worst texters. Were either too busy smoking, forget we have a phone, or staring at the text wondering if it makes any sense.
this hit me in my soul