Spent all morning tryna figure out what the hell I did wrong to everyone I meet around the block to make ‘em side-eye me bad as a fuck and started to wonder whether the problem is truly me or just myself.
Vou já usar isso de escape pra falar um negócio dramato-cômico: descobri uma faixa do álbum Sparks Fly da Miranda Cosgrove e ela mudou a minha vida pra sempre essa semana. Na próxima eu (es)tarei pulando pra outra.
The sexual tension between sober me and drunk myself at the verge of texting someone I actually wish was real and not just what I invented of ‘em back in the old good days we still would call each other “pals”.