notes to (future) self

Quite honestly, I don’t know how teeny boppers survive in this day and age without their heads exploding. If I had thousands of pictures and hundreds of videos a mere click of the mouse away at age 11, my barely pubescent mind would just go into overdrive. There would be sparks and smoke coming out of my head - not out of my ears, because that only happens when you’re angry, OBVIOUSLY - but just smoke off the top of my head. My hair would slowly start to frizz and burn. 

Having to sit through an entire episodes of whatever  to catch a glimpse of Leonardo DiCaprio or Freddie Prinze, Jr. or Jeremy London (yea, I know) kept me sane. It forced me to take a breather. I would freak out for a minute here, a minute there, with ample time to recover. 

I just don’t have the willpower, man. I can’t stop following Tom Hardy appreciation Tumblrs or searching for Adam Brody interviews. I just can’t. Even without the raging hormones, it’s a struggle. Either kids these days have extraordinary willpower or an extremely high hubba hubba threshold.

Tom Hardy, stoooooop it.

(via fuckyeahtomhardy)