Gonna be late. Someone jumped in front of our train.
We can't have sex anymore. The amount of money I've spent on meds and copays for UTIs is getting ridiculous
I'm not drinking cause I'm like 4 vodkas away from a boom box and Peter Gabriel.
I say we start a new tradition. I came up with it all by myself. It's called work out, lay out, black out
I know. It's cray. Crayon. Crayolaaaaa.
I won't apologize to a one balled man
I should have bailed a long time ago. I mean, he has a bible verse-a-day app next to his dick pics in his phone.
The sweaty, naked apartment dance party wasn't complete until I threw the whole jar of glitter on us. It was like the icing.
I need someone to play with my boobs. Even platonically. I just need a good groping
Who looks around on a bright, sunny day and says, "you know what? Today I'm going to write gay dinosaur erotica"
I think one of my ovaries is committing suicide. But that is a topic for another day.
I'm listening to Michael Jackson while drinking vodka, alone. Honestly, l wish I could Moonwalk my way back to when I knew wtf was going on in my life.
I don't know man. She said my cock made her promises my heart couldn't fulfill.
Have you ever seen death before? Bc it's me right now in yesterday's clothes.
Did you come home, throw out a ton of shoes, then leave again?
That is exactly what I did.
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