the reason why you were crawling on your hands and knees from room to room last night was because you thought the ceiling fans were chasing you...
that makes sense.
i just carried on a conversation with my mother from another room mid-ejaculation. you would have done the same
I mean, it really isn't YOUR car until you have sex in it.
i was out of cigarettes so i took the butts out of the ashtray, emptied them out, and proceeded to roll one big Frankenstein cigarette.
he said i was the most charming throwing up drunk person hes ever taken care of. so of course i had sex with him.
The saltiness of my tears mix perfectly with the tequila.
I woke up to blood crusted on my face. I don't understand
team rage. no explanation necessary
okay, certainly we can't screw this up, and even as I type, I know we will
I hope I take a shit on your face in your dreams tonight.
Bren left me with a lovely parting gift. Newfouund alcoholism. I'm on the kitchen floor, hugging a bottle of vodka. It's my only friend now.
Okay so for future reference and your own safety I should probably tell you that it is not cranberry juice in that bottle on the kitchen table.
That's what tomorrow is for. It's like bloodletting. Except with shame and liquor.
I can't even masturbate without crying fuck this break up
Well now you know not to take drugs from your friends. Take it from stangers. They're more reliable.
Chasing down vodka with apple juice and crying. Alone.
Randomize
