i'm ashley. i like lady gaga, cute animals, sick tattoos, good music, indie movies, good literature, high and low fashion, uncontrollable laughter, theatre, my closest friends, and my family. everything else is just...unimportant.
“you’ve given this way more thought than it deserves,” you say as i tell you about my fear of rejection
the fact that i made you mad, and then you admitted that you were wrong was incredibly satisfying.
tumblr, where i go to hide from my friends that follow me on twitter
me: guys, i’m actually a virgin
guy i’ve had sex with: shut up.
ryan: are you making fun of the way i talk?
ryan: i'm from southern california, i can't help it
ash: i'm from southern california and i don't sound like that
ryan: yeah you do. you sound like a bimbo
I just told you I was on the brink of a nervous breakdown bc of all the work I have to do, and you want me to tell you about how awful my weekend was? I want to punch you in the mouth right now.