If Tom had learned anything, it was that you can’t ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence, that’s all anything ever is, nothing more than coincidence. Tom had finally learned, there are no miracles. There’s no such thing as fate, nothing is meant to be.
I’m starting to hate Tumblr. It’s becoming really impersonal, not that it was ever personal to begin with. I think I liked it more before I had many followers, when I had a purpose and a personal outlet. I hate scrolling through pages of the same rubbish. I hate girls who wear red lipstick really badly because they aren’t pale. I hate people who constantly put their girlfriend before their friends. I hate that Frank left Gallows. I hate that my best mate is gone for 16 months. I hate that I just got you out of my head, and you’re back. I have an anger problem.