I woke up this morning under my fitted sheet and my legs through the sleeves of my sweater.
Mental picture: Us at a bar keeping it classy shot gunning PBR's in the corner.
That was a good example of when keeping it real goes right
does it bother you that i swallowed like millions of your unborn children
actually, i try not to think about it
and i pooped them out
i feel like i want to date him just so i could be besties with his penis
Bars not open yet, I feel like a desperate alcoholic wandering around outside.
i lose more brain cells when ever she opens her mouth then i would doing meth for 8 years of my life.
walking around pouring bird seed on passed out guys in the quad.
Oh god. It's like a broken faucet. My guts sound like a bilge pump clogged with golf balls and cake frosting.
Oh, AND I met a ukulele teacher that I'd date. So there's that.
There comes a point, as I lay on the floor of the work disabled toilets contemplating catching 10 minutes sleep between chunders, that I wonder if its really worth it
I need to stop getting drunk and telling people it isn't "about them."
I gave him a blowjob to kill bill. 2 of my favorite things.
A million fucking miles away, and the sun still manages to fuck my hungover mornings up.
He called me kiddo. We can't have sex
I love how fuckboys immediately become cultured when I tell them I’m an artist.
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