Try outs.

fuckyeahlaughters:

roflamao:

This is her in 10 years

.

inapuno:

coolkidcherry:

“Juan wants to buy 30 pounds of candy-“

“Jimmy, Jack, and Joanna want to split the fare to fly to Africa for the day—”

“I had 10 chocolate bars. I ate 9 of them. What do I have now?”

DIABETES, MAYBE?

I broke up.

No matter how much I try to explain, the result is still the same.

I still did what I did.

I hurt you.

Now what I want us to do is move on.

Let’s move on to better things.

I just hope for the best.

I’m sorry Karmella.

It’s just sad how you think the things you do would magically change how things have become. Sometimes you just fail to realize that no matter how hard you try, there just isn’t going back.

there comes a time when paranoia just isn’t tolerable anymore. I get the part where you have this nagging gut feeling that something is running amok right under your nose. And, you know, there’s nothing wrong about acting on that feeling. But there’s a limit to that. If you do abso-fucking-lutely nothing but mope and make yourself feel like shit because of your uneasiness, do us all a favor and just kill yourself.

People have better things to do than deal with your never-ending drama. It’s old and tiring. Get a goddamn life, why don’t you?

They never get a hint. Not even when their faults are very much apparent. Add to that a fuckton of narrow-mindedness and we have ourselves the most annoying type of person on the face of the earth.

I don’t want to take part in the Lady GaGa bandwagon is the time when everybody and their mother decide to be on it. Given that I still adore GaGa, I just can’t bring myself to see her video. Or listen to her new single. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time doing other things.

OR 

something new yesterday. Suffice to say that I surprised myself by finding out that I could play bowling. Given that it isn’t really difficult to get the hang of, the mere fact that I was able to get two strikes on my first lane is just amazing.

I think I may have found myself a new hobby.

I got the results from my *PPD test. This nice doctor told me that I tested positive for pulmonary tuberculosis. She was trying to reassure me that everything was going to be fine. It’s good that your disease is treatable, and it’s only going to be a 6 month treatment, she says. As much as I’d like to take comfort in knowing that I have a sickness that is curable, the mere fact that I’m sick doesn’t sit well with me.

I can, however, rest well knowing that there is someone willing to help me cure myself. And for that I am very thankful.

Still though, TB? 

*A Tuberculosis Skin Test (Also, it stands for purified protein derivative)

and I have this hardass exam in roughly an hour and half. Actually things would have been fine yesterday. All I really needed to do was to pick up my reviewer and, well, study. But alas such is not my fate, for I had to deal with some annoying little fuck for the whole of my afternoon.

I ought to have left earlier, saving myself from the torment of having to listen to his scatterbrained homily about how I should be. Dear god. Don’t you just wish that sometimes you can tell people that you simply do not give a rat’s ass about what they’re going on a tirade about? No? Yeah, I guess that’s too impolite.

Interestingly enough, I still find time to go on tumblr and post about my incapability to study. Yes. I am the best ever.