“it’s like my world’s falling apart around me,” I say as I sit alone in the shower, the water like Reichenbach upon my convulsing, sobbing body.
“please, take me instead,” I say quietly to my computer screen as yet more Reichenbach pools into my dash.
“Better get the funeral plans in order for tomorrow,” I whisper to myself as yet more Reichenbach angst floods my dash.
this is going to be me on Sunday

I’m going to go give this to Moffat and Gatiss
“here’s some blea—I mean water”

someone reblog this and have a conversation with me about WHY YOU CAN’T GO THROUGH SUNDAY, JANUARY 15TH, 2012
I think I’m going to go destroy some people
see if you can unscrabble these two surnames:
ffaomt
istsag