- at the start of the semester: i'm gonna get a 4.0 gpa
- at the end of the semester: perfection is the disease of a nation...pretty hurts, pretty hurts
so my mum told me that as a kid she would peel an apple and throw the peel over her shoulder, and the peel would take the shape of the first letter of her future spouse. naturally, i decided to do it and
i’m fucking crying
it says ‘no.’
it literally says NO.
oh my god