I don't know which is more embarrassing, the fact that I shat on the floor today or that I told you about it.
24 hours later and my vagina is still tingling. That good.
I have the coolest burn here. Everyone is taking my picture. I'm like a celebrity of the burn victims.
I was very proud of myself that day. I had an awesome time. I don't care if I negatively impacted others.
I'm at some strange place in what feels like Mexico, high and getting tacos.
I feel like passing out with my foot on your face has bonded us at a very fundamental level.
He said he looked out his window and I was sitting in the grass with blood everywhere talking to a dog.
note: just because the casino is called bourbon street, it doesn't mean you can puke and keep walking and no one will care. chalk me up for another 86
I want to die, ON THAT, with that INSIDE ME. ironically, I sense that would be the only time I'd feel alive.
It's a sad night when one of your friend texts you that she's going on a date with someone you know and then invites you to maybe have a drink after
he drank half a bottle of bushmills, stood up to pee over the side, pissed his pants, sat in the puddle on the deck, told me my life goals were stupid and impossible, and wouldn't leave until 5am. by the time I got up at 8 I had 4 texts and 2 fb messages from him. AND HE STILL THINKS IT WENT WELL
Dude, no, you tried to sleep on the stove. I mean. You were pissed when I stopped you... but I couldn't have you catching on fire in my house.
And a hot pocket after we fucked. Heaven.
Totally writing my paper on the toilet. Makes me miss you.
He gave us beer and shots and made us pizza in his brick oven before firing a handgun into the air to signal it was time to give us a ride in his inflatable raft to the bars.
He's like a mythological figure
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