'Watching yourself cry on Photobooth' is the new 'watching yourself cry in the mirror.'
apparently the dude across the street has been dead for like a month. now I feel bad about pissing on his lawn
My mom just set up beer pong in the dining room for family game night. and you ask why I'm still living at home.
she got into med school, i feel dumb for banging her dance major friend
Rather than admit to myself he's hooking up with her right now, I choose to believe that he's not responding because he's masturbating to my picture, distraught over his poor choice, and trying to forget about the one that got away with a heavy dose of meth.
Found plan b box covered with blood. In kitchen sick. Pickle jar is empty. Wtf happened?
Bad breakup?
He posted a pic of me fully naked and smiling as he inserted a carrot into my vagina as my FB profile pic and then changed the PW, locking me out of my own account. So 500 of my closest friends, family, and coworkers now have that mental image of me on FB.
I don't miss having sex with him. We had our finale fuck last week. He's all yours now.
Sometimes I feel like I should become a beautician purely for my ability to shave pretty shapes into my pubic hair.
Do to my newly discovered condition I'm having to resort to emergency beat sessions to avoid the temptation to text girls I know are easy slams.
I have got to stop taking so many uppers and downers simultaneously. My life is a Dali painting.
No you don't understand. This tree is really alive. Like in Pocahontas.
Side note, from now on any snap chat I get that isn't interesting enough... Is getting a dick in response. Judge your snaps accordingly
I've been sleeping with the same person for about two months now, I think I know a little bit about stability and commitment.
Ya know, one would think a restraining order would keep me from fucking my ex.
Randomize
