Kirby, opening the fridge: who took my food???? KJ!!!

Kirby: that was me 10 minutes ago, I was mad but realized friendship was more important

Sword Kirby: that was me 15 seconds ago. Screw it. [kicks KJ’s door open] KJ!!!!!!

KJ: FUCK—

you first learn how to be lonely when you’re twelve years old. suck your tongue behind your teeth and bite till it bleeds, wear baggy clothes because you don’t have much else, ignore the way the girls look at you from across the room. they’re not talking about you. in third grade a girl with the last name waters is too scared to talk to her boyfriend so she uses you as a little messenger, and you don’t tell her that you’ve had a crush on her boyfriend since kindergarten. their relationship doesn’t last long and you are the one who delivers the dumping, the final blow.

you learn how to miss someone when you’re fifteen and you carve your throat to fit in a box because god forbid you color outside the lines and screw everything up again. you learn to keep your missing-him in your gut where it can chew through your liver and hurt only you, only you, and maybe hurt your stats teacher a little who watches you cry in the front row of his class almost every day. be good and lonely by yourself, dear, says the creature chewing through your gullet. he grows larger with the loneliness, the bleeding tongue, the missing-him. it’s funny, isn’t it, how the lack of love feels like the presence of something crawling between your pelvis and your ribs.

but picture this: the sheets are cold and your skin is warm. you are naked and you cannot hide it, even though your body is huddled under a thick comforter and your clothes lay close to your bed. you are naked and that is all there is to it. the moonlight comes in through the window like bioluminescent milk spilled on your grandmother’s best black tablecloth, the tablecloth that your cousin tore holes in during a particularly tense game of risk. the moon watches. she is naked, too. she has always been this way. it is just the way god made her.

your eyelashes brush against your cheeks when you blink. if someone broke into your house just now and shot you in the head, your parents would find your body and you would be naked. would they judge you? you decide that they would. the sin of being naked is more atrocious than the bleeding hole in your head. but could you help it? would the intruder allow you time to get dressed? would they allow a young girl to die in her sunday best?

i’ll tell you a secret: i know your kind.

i’ve seen you before in a boy with brown eyes and he also wanted to kill himself before he turned nineteen. you’re taller than him, of course, and you walk with a lilt in your step that would look like a limp if you didn’t bounce so much. i bring out the sarcasm in both of you. you tell my best friend, “she’s witty!” and it makes me smile even though i’ve heard it before from the mouth of a brown-eyed boy who hurt me. i didn’t like you my freshman year but i didn’t like him either, so maybe i could come to love you both.

i know every trick in the book. it’s funny how you remind me of him. your stare lingers just like his did from the desk beside mine in ap psychology, and you lean over too far to ask me what type i am on the myers’ briggs. you’re an esfj and it fits and he was too. always the entertainer. and you laugh about your misery and how you have to strap yourself to the bed so you don’t do something stupid and how you’ll be hanging in the rafters if you don’t get into the college you want. you talk like it’s hilarious. you’ll win comedian of the year. i bet you like me because i never laugh. i bet you like me because i listen. infps, you know? they say we’re altruistic, but maybe we're just the elder sisters.

i think i will find you over and over across my whole life. men like you will love me forever. the both of you lock together and spin into a blur of colors in my mind, and you make a kaleidoscope, and it’s beautiful and it makes me a little sick. you’re a tessellation. you’d like that word. the same pattern repeating over and over and over until it envelopes me and i don’t know which way is up and all i can do is fall on my knees and scream to the colors like i’m not hurting too, please live another day. you deserve to be happy. i promise it will be worth it in the end. i promise i will keep your tessellation alive.

theo: three words. say them and i’m yours.

liam: three words.

theo:

Raven: Just tell them we’re Teen Titans. Robin: Tell them we’re what? Raven: Idiot teenagers with a death wish.

Stiles: *spots a bison* Hey dad do you know what you have in common with that guy?

Sheriff: ???

Stiles: You also have a bi son

Sheriff:

Stiles:

Sheriff: I accept you, but please never make that joke again

The more I try to drown out the mayhem in my brain,

The deeper I seem to sink in the abyss of my mind.

~justyouraveragepoet13

derek: what do we call vandalism and thievery?

braeden: a hobby

derek:

braeden: that i do not engage in

Beast Boy: So, are we flirting right now?

Rose: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU

Beast Boy: That doesn’t answer my question

Lydia: I was attacked today

Y/n: Did you defend yourself with an axe?

Lydia: why would i have an axe?

Y/n *disgusted*: What kind of woman doesn't have an axe?

Chris: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Peter: You mean literally or figuratively?

Chris: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify…

Peter: You hid that body pretty well. I'll allow you to hug me for four seconds.

Stiles: Should't you say four to five seconds?

Peter: No. That's sex. I can fuck you if you want, but if you want a hug, it'll be four seconds.

Stiles: ...

Stiles: Four to five seconds, please.

scott: and that's the plan

stiles: alright, time to see if you little shits paid attention

*kahoot music begins to play*

So young and so exhausted, where did it all went wrong?💔

İntihar notunda tek bir cümle yazıyordu "çiceklere aşağıdan bakmaya gidiyorum.."

Isaac: I don’t buy that

Stiles: it’s an allegory! I take you know what one of those is?

Isaac: an allegory is what you come up with when you can’t be bothered to find the facts!

Scott: [mumbles into hands] give me strength...

Be yourself. An original is so much better than a copy.

- Suzy Kassem

Stiles: don’t let Y/N fool you - she/ he/ they used to do ballet

Liam: really?

Y/N: which gave me the physical skills to strangle someone with my feet

¿me creerías si te digo que hasta la canción triste más alegre me hace sentir en decadencia?

-Sal