I’m going crazy and there’s not a single person I can talk to to keep my sanity. This is fucked
Slam poetry. Yelling. Angry. Waving my hands a lot. Specific point of view on things. Cynthia. Cyn-thi-a. Jesus died for our Cynthia’s. Jesus cried. Runaway bride. Julia Roberts. Julia rob-hurts. Cynthia. Mmmmm Cynthia, you’re dead. You are dead. Be boop beep you’re dead.
Schmidt, 22 Jump Street (via joshbgosh1)