don’t get it twisted like i respect bugs for being the best they can be in spite of their specific assigned flesh prisons and their ecological significance but they need to stay the fuck away from me
This isn’t the real me, yet it is. There’s different versions of me, and they’re all the real me. And you know what? That kills me. It’s too confusing. I’m not one person. I’ve got a twenty-something body, eight-year old heart, eighteen-year old mind, and eighty-year old soul.
All Cowboys Need Pretty Girls (via octobermoe)