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if u texted drake in the middle of the night that u were sad he would leap into his toyota corrola and drive to your house immediately…even tho his legs are too big and his knees smash into the steering wheel every time he gets into the car…and sometimes at night he wonders if he should buy a more fuel efficient car…but his mom gave him this toyota corolla in high school and he doesnt want to disrespect her

(Source: drakefan666)

I put my hand on him. Touching him was always so important to me. It was something I lived for. I never could explain why. Little, nothing touches. My fingers against his shoulder. The outsides of our thighs touching as we squeezed together on the bus. I couldn’t explain it, but I needed it. Sometimes I imagined stitching all of our touches together. How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love?
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (Jonathan Safran Foer)

narwhal-noir:

I took my girlfriend to an improv show the other night and during intermission we were passionately arguing over whether half a 5 Hour Energy shot would give you 2.5 hours of energy or 5 hours of half-assed energy so we turned around to ask the opinions of the three people behind us and one of them said “Are all your arguments like this because we heard you in the lobby earlier fighting over the right way to pronounce ‘egg’?”

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