sweet dreams are made of bees
who am i, i’m made of bees
everything is made of bees
Imagine this: You’re sitting in your animation history class. Your professor says that your classmate who sits two empty seats away from you is going to show his animation. Joy!
Then, projected ten feet tall in glorious HD, is an autobiographical piece about his life problems and his manic pixie dream girl purple skunk girlfriend. Complete with fade to black sex. And masturbation scene.
Imagine that and you will know a fraction of my pain.
I don’t want to be right
have you ever just
stopped whatever you were doing
to look at an english word and
“you look like a fake word”