"it’s sweater weather," I say as I sip my pumpkin flavored caffeinated drink. sweaters fall from the sky, smothering small children. women scream as sweaters cover the entire town. innocent townsfolk start drowning in sweaters. at least I have this fucking pumpkin latte
With a handful of exceptions, the most beautiful things have to stay in your own head because there’s no use in trying to move them out. If you try, you might break them. They’re too fragile to survive outside.