This is clearly one of those "A hole's a hole" situations
its not stalking. its research.
I discovered last night there is no graceful way to remove your face from your gf's crotch when your parents walk in the room
I went to the gas station and the lady goes I remember you. Broken sunglasses and puke on your car.
It's not my fault. Someone keeps buying me tequila shots. Idk who. But every time I look down there's another. I think there's a conspiracy.
I will seriously deflate and melt into the floor into a puddle of devestation, shame and vodka.
I may not have eyeballs after all the drunk naked people having sex outside.
I feel like a color. Like a wavy color
the bruises from climbing out of the window last night make sitting at my desk impossible. legit excuse to not study right?
I'm glad that even though we are states apart our whorish hearts beat as one
I understand, but unless there is an intervention for me being planned, i DON NOT want to talk about my life choices
Literally every boy I've dated is now in a somewhat successful band. My vagina has obviously been blessed by the rock gods.
well, you know. whores of a feather.
The fact our science teacher from high school was buying us drinks and hitting on me doesn't matter.
How did I get home last night?
We put your keys on a lanyard that asked anyone that found you to bring you home. A nice man in a cape, green shorts and a mesh shirt dropped you off this morning.
Oh. Yeah. Riiiggghhht
Randomize
