Cogito, Ergo Quack Quack

I support Max's right and wrongs. Yes, right now there are a lot more wrongs than there are rights; I'm still rooting for him. He could rob a bank and still be completely babygirl in my eyes

All results, standings, and penalties cease to matter when the mariachi F1 theme is playing

Alles an diesem Outfit ist richtig gemacht. die Länge, die Ärmel, die Armbänder, das Kopfstück. alles davon. Warum kleiden wir uns nicht alle so

I don't know who I would be today if I had never read Flowers for Algernon. If my soul had not been crushed on that fateful day when I finished the book, I fear I would've ended up a monster with no hope of ever changing. I would give almost anything to read that book for the first time again. Nothing in this life or the next will ever live up to the anguish I felt reading that last page. What a beautiful feeling it was.

I like this hill; I think I'll die on it.

Did I have to braid my hair today? No. I did it anyway. Did I get mad when it didn't look how I pictured it in my head? Yes. Did I redo it until looked like the picture? Yes. Does it look like the picture? No one can be quite sure

Sudden and gratuitous total existence failure... what a way to go

I don't think I've ever been as attached to a paragraph of writing as I am to this one

Jannik Sinner is so cool, I wish tennis was real

If I'm not supposed to enlist, then why did they make all the propaganda so enticing.

They really got me with the insta edits, take me out and slowed Macarena were shockingly convincing

I despise the way I feel that in order to truly like something, I must be all knowing. Why can't I just like something? I shouldn't feel the need to know the name of every background character, where they came from, and what they're doing there. I want to like something and not feel a burning fear that someone will question the validity of my statement expressing that something brings me joy.