I have a voicemail from Mike at 1am. He starts to say something, but then throws up instead.
Home safe. Psyche shattered. Still rolling. In love with the morrocan rug in the living room.
It started out just like any other night: was watching a Zach Effron movie, drinking tequila out of a water bottle. I don't understand how this got out of hand.
I'm so high I feel like I'm pedaling a bicycle but I'm laying on the couch. My body might be vibrating. I made soup.
He told me he loved me and then asked if we could have sex in the snow
I need to stop drinking alone, I wrote a love letter to my tattoos
You're the common denominator of my blackouts.
I've seen too many dicks in the past week. I can't do it anymore.
If you hear death cries, thats me singing. Just let me be.
Do exhausted, barely concealed hand jobs count as joining the mile high club?
We're friends with benifits... The benifits being I'm fucking her boyfriend
I'm getting paid to get fucked up. How much better could this get?
dude, shes trippin so bad. idk what shes on, she just told me she doesnt remember her name then proceeded to get in the shower clothed to try to "rinse off the high"
i got my period today. mid walk of shame and im wearing a shirt that says stay classy. my life is a joke.
Between falling off a shelf on to a concrete floor and sex with you - i may never walk again.
Randomize
