so its thursday, which means its time to resume communication with you
There's sex hanging in the air like a pinata. European people are no joke.
My catholic guilt is strong, but the alcohol is stronger.
I haven't had to masterbate since I started dating him over a year ago. I don't even know if I remember how and my vagina is calling.
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Besides, I don't need any more men there who have seen my tits. #bearwatch2014
He sent me a selfie with his cat. He has found a way to my heart. And pants.
he just fluffed my hair and told me I had to dance with him because we were both gingers.
Fly, little bird! Repopulate the ginger race!
I swear to go if the response she sends me something along the lines of who the fuck is Mark Hamill I might need to brake up with her.
How long until you're healed?
Physically? A week or so. Emotionally? The scars of dislocating my knee at a frat and flashing my panties to the whole crowd wi never heal.
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My legacy here is being that tiny blonde girl that threw someone down and shouted "Fuck your face, I'm Dee Dee Ramone."
I renamed some of my contacts in my phone before passing out and I have one I cant figure out, its "fucking house elf scum"
either he just commented on my nose ring or he's offering me cocaine, I honestly can't tell
Still fucking the ballerina?
She can put her legs behind her head.
Enough said
my life is like one bad, slutty lifetime movie.
Optimism doesn't exist before 2pm nor do any other emotions.
Randomize