Bonne nuit, mes amies!
You deserve to be happy. Never ever question that.
I hpe you;re alll enjoing this rare occassion. I rareyl drink haha.
I can’t drink blue moon anymore. i associate it with man city. blue moon. and it’s a belgium company. belgium. kompany. sober matt hates scity as much as drnk matt.
brokentripod replied to your post: Hi tumble!
there’s no e
Dude, i dint know. Haha.
You cant just say drunk bro?
I wanted to sound like a sophisticated durnk.
I’m slightly inebriated.
Ehhhhh my dad made this joke ages ago
(Source: mylifeasastickperson, via shitshockandhorror)
Home. :)
(via tattoos-and-starwars)
My ears pick up the economic lecture droning somewhere off in the distance. I process tiny bits and pieces of it, but if I may be honest, my mind is elsewhere. The green of the chalkboard is instead replaced by the green grass of a well worn field just at the edge of my university. My feet push off the pitch, pouring battery acid into my veins. Fighting the pain, I stare intently at my target: the defender with the ball at his feet. Filled with minor amounts of rage, I take chase, pressuring him, herding him closer to his goalposts like a border collie herding a flock of sheep. I must be relentless, I tell myself. He takes a bad touch of the ball. Instantly, I pounce on his error; my predatory instincts proving they are as sharp as ever. Unlike my foe, my touch does not fail me. I slot the ball cleanly past the keeper. The goalkeeper can only watch in horror as the ball slides past her, crashing into the net.
My eyes snap up to the front of the classroom. I jot rapidly jot down the newly written material on the board while simultaneously attempting to the decipher the professor’s cryptic writing. My prayers for the strength to pay more attention in class fall upon deaf ears as moments later I am back to field of dreams, running, shooting, scoring. Some may dismiss this as the thoughts of a dreamer, but I assure you, I am not the only one. Ever since I was a child, competing in sports, I have partaken in these visualization exercises. I dream of chances, I dream of moments of grandeur, moments of sublime skill, and moments of fantastic finishes. But above all, I dream of winning. I dream of lifting trophies and wearing a gold medal proudly around my neck. But come match day, sometimes these things just fail to materialize. As one grows older, the hammer of reality thuds in the nail of cynicism. You begin to realize that dreams rarely come true. For most people, that is enough to stop dreaming and to eventually stop trying all together. For others, this is no deterrent. They lose themselves in an ocean of hope. Maybe for once, they pray, a dream will come true.