When twelve year old girls write ill-conceived fanfic plots in which everyone is attracted to their “edgy”, mysterious, egocentric main character they call it trash but when Moffat does it they call it a script. Hmmm. Suspicious.
"you shouldn’t be depressed, people have it worse than you"
finally, after years of searching, the person with the worst life ever is found. formally, they are granted permission to be sad. but only them. only they have earned it. no sads for anyone else at all ever
Let’s take this
and put it in
yes??? Nintendo, are you taking notes?
Real life. The concept you’re thinking of is going outside.
yeah ok buddy I’m just gonna step outside and go talk to my neighbour the talking cat. the fuck kind of real life are you living?
when someone you barely know jokes on you