99 bottles of fear on the wall, 99 bottles of fear, take one down and pass it around, 100 bottles of fear on the wall. 

Don’t mind me, folks. Just having an existential crisis.

Feeling trapped? Angry at the world? Done with everyone’s bullshit? Then come on down to ScreamFest, where the only limits are your lung capacity!

The breakup was inevitable. When you get up every day with fond hopes but are met with nothing but passivity—when you continually think and dream about the object of your affection and concern but there is no reciprocity — it’s only natural to finally give up.

For those of you who live in the Eastern United States, are you sick of cicadas yet? They were cool when they first came out, but now they keep flying into my car, latching into my hair, and making so much noise that my family has to yell if we want to be understood outside.