Doo rag and shades in the bar. You are missing your future husband.
I just went through her cupboards. Eye patch and sword. nowhere near each other. different shelfs.
laying in bed listening to christian music, jealous of the hope they have for their life. also need to beat off, can i think about you?
there's nothing like watching the sun rise at the library alone on a friday morning to make you want to kill yourself.
the beat of "birthday sex" is shockingly similar to my dry heaving rhythm. it's making me nauseous all over again.
By the way, she says hi. At least I think she did since she licked my phone
he tried to make a toast, but hit the moving ceiling fan with his beer instead
and you wish you could be eating a cookie right now. but all you get to eat is a penis
What I'm trying to say is, that time you chained me to my dresser and made me beg for it was incredibly romantic.
He ended up buying the equivalent of dinner at a Mexican place, in weed
Last night I was introduced as the Picasso of getting fucked up so I obviously had to live up to it by chugging long islands
I just need a fucking pair of pants. Is that too much to ask for?
How don't you remember..? You were getting handfuls of skittles out from our bra screaming TASTE THE RAINBOW.
isnt it crazy how for years we were living our owns lives, and now only a wall seperates us?
stop. eating. my. shrooms.
You ran outside mistaken the snow for sand and started screaming "WHERES TH BEACH"
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