The thing I love about John is that like…he’s so much more dangerous than Sherlock but everyone else was trying to warn him away like “that guy gets off on crime and you seem like a nice bloke, watch yourself.” They’re all scared for him like “one day we’ll be standing around a body and sherlock will be the one who put it there” and that very night they’re all standing around the cabbie’s body and John put it there.
It’s so weird how sometimes when I read a poem it just feels like a bunch of words and sometimes when I read a poem it feels like someone ripping my heart out of my body and throwing it at my face at 90 mph
someone: repeating things that reinforce a negative self view and world outlook such as the oh so popular tumblr niche of nihilistic ‘i want to die and everything is awful’ “jokes” me, in recovery, trying not to get dragged into that with them:
I need to be fuckin kissed. Just grab me by my collar and pull me close to you, or with both hands pull my face so my lips are against yours, or back me into a wall and hold my waist, or push me down on a sofa or bed and get on top of me and kiss the fuck outta me. I just need to be fuckin kissed man.
bongdanceking 