Disney taught me to believe in Fairytales. Boys taught me not to. 18 years old. Living the University student life away from Home. Small, Scottish and Especially sweet.
Trying to believe in love at first sight... watching the stars at night.
starting today all blogs without the following image will be deleted within 24 hours
i’m not even afraid of deletion. i just want this image on my blog
this is my favorite so far
OH MY GOD
I LOVE THIS ONE ALREADY
IT BECAME MISHA :D
a little girl in the grocery store just asked me if i was a princess because my dress was pretty and i said everyone’s a princess and she pointed to her dad and asked if he was a princess too and her dad said yep its true im a princess and she looked so happy idk it was adorable
100 points to the starkid fandom
I truly go into housewife mode when im someones girlfriend like I will make u pancakes and bacon every morning and suck u up whenever u want
this a lie
im literally dating this girl
this a lie
she dont even know how to cook a pancake what is this
At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.
So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.
She refused to fix my grade.
In the end, she shit herself on stage.
I didn’t regret it.