Picture it: My wedding day. Taylor Swift’s Look What You Made Me Do plays. The flower boy throws not flowers but burnt pictures of my exes. I wear black. I drop from the ceiling. “A lot of you probably didn’t expect to be invited. Now that you’re here. Leave.”
Gossip, laugh, hold eachother close as sisters, tell her I’m so grateful to have her in my life, prepare a guest room for her to stay the week and make sure the sheets are warm, cook her favorite breakfast
Normalize these kind of simple life gays instead of the ones that are always in speedos traveling to different beaches around the world https://t.co/5DsNGd5xj3