Messy bun, no makeup, fumbly lines. It’s all good. It’s cathartic.
I talk about my experience living day-to-day as I figure my shit out (shit being: work, life, purpose).
Thank you, loves.
Intimacy and adrenaline are the driving forces of my life
This was said in a corporate job interview
I wonder how my out-in-highschool alter-ego is doing; and how she differs from the one who would make out with a boy for the duration of 1 pop song before fleeing to the bathroom.
She probably has a dope haircut.
Talking to Girls with Kristen Andrews:
One time, at a bar, I asked a woman if she’d share her life’s mantra with me.
In response, she asked how I made it past the bouncer because I looked like a child.
The apocalypse to me is a single horse, likely a Clydesdale, galloping through the downtown core in search of meat. That’s my end of days. And it’s because my first memory was a horse sucking on my neck. Horses are forever imprinted in my fear centre. These are personal axioms of horror. Blood thirsty horses. Dying from marijuana. And briefly losing my mind, but for just enough time to remove my tampon and fling it onto a dance floor.
What’s it called when you have an insatiable desire to write a million apology letters? Guilt? Hindsight? Age? Let’s go with age. Let’s blame everything on time.
I’m worried I just wrote/directed the most subconsciously blowjobby commercial ever. I’m just a naïve lady gay. I’m not primed for these sorts of things. I’ve only ever watched 1 porn in my life. Milk Junkies 5. I was amongst friends. We were eating chips.
Stressful night.
- Unknown
(Source: cosmicwizdom, via dwaynewaynejr)