Behind Every Gay Person There Is A Gayer More Evil Gay Person. Sometimes Even Two.

one day I won’t feel guilty for things I can’t control

I fear I might not recover from that episode. “I’m your first but I won’t be your last”?!?!?

BUCKTOMMY BONES?!! (We fucking cheered)

MADNEY PREGNANT

THE LAST SCENE WITH BUCK AND EDDIE?!?

we’re so fucking back baby

JESSIE PLEASE COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU, IM NOT EVEN KIDDING PLEASE

PLEASE DEAR GOD GET HIS ASS

Prayer circle for Gerrard to have a deadly bee allergy.

🐝 🐝 🐝

🐝 🙏🏻 🐝

🐝 🐝

🐝

knowing that every big milestone of my life is tainted by grief for everyone around me, and guilt on my end about the fact that there should’ve been two of us going through it together. I feel guilty for surviving, even though it’s not my fault, and it was a matter of circumstances. It’s weird knowing I’m grieving a half of me, a person I never got to meet and grow up with.

i am simply an Alive Bobby Nash Truther until the bitter end. they can have a live feed of the inside of that man’s coffin as his body decomposes in the corner of every single episode from here on out and i will continue to believe that he will rise from the grave and continue to live his best most chaotic life with his hot wife and his cringefail bisexual son assigned to him by the HR department at the LAFD and his beloved dear paramedic friends who come to him for life advice and his son in law/narrative parallel with extreme catholic guilt and a nobel prize for pioneering new batshit ways to repress emotions and discovering previously unknown stages of grief. it is what he deserves

football has been such a big part of my life, for as long as I can remember.

so many people around me don’t understand the love I have for the sport, but they’ll never truly understand how vital it has been to me. my team, my club, to me its home.

I’ve been going to Stamford bridge since I was a kid, I know the stadium as well as I know my childhood home. over the years, kingsmeadow has become home too.

the sport, this club, it gives me something to believe in. I mean, isn’t that what most people want anyways? something they can wholeheartedly believe in. sport, for so many people, give them that belief.

there’s something safe and easy about standing in a crowd with thousands of fans just like you, all in that one moment, cheering on your team. it’s a weird feeling, one I can’t describe but try to chase. the pure joy, the comfort, the delight and rush as you watch goals be conceded or scored, the rush you get of excitement, or the dread that follows a hard loss. the unwavering determination that you will come back from this.

realising I’m going to be utterly alone in a city and have to make new friends and get to know more people. knowing that I have very few friends who reach out first, and eventually they will forget me as they move on with their lives, but I’ll be burdened forever for remembering every detail about them.

totally ideal things to think about to fuel a crisis at 2am

If someone followed my line of sight like this to force-keep the eye contact I'd kiss them just to force-break it jus sayin

IT FEELS SO GOOD TO BE A CHELSEA FAN💙😍