My psychiatrist is "consulting" others. I am high-achieving nuts.
Fuck Spring. The birds chirping at 4am make me feel unnatural for still being up and drunk.
I can feel the fear and stress bubbling in my stomach. Or maybe that is the pregnancy.
I just saw an appointment in my phone called "it's been a month" I think I drunkly did that after I slept with Paul to remind myself to check if I got knocked up... I'm smarter drunk than sober.
I only know two things that kitchen floors are good for... sex and quesadillas that got dropped. You know, the five second rule
I blacked out at work again... Except this time my boss watched me throw up by the bus stop and some woman let me sleep on her shoulder for an hour. Why does this keep happening?
Hopefully this dress says "let me rent your house" and not "let me suck your dick for money"
That tampon felt like a stick in my vagina, I am never making a drunken tampon choice again. Friends don't let friends choose tampons drunk.
My glasses were in the garbage this morning
eh, I feel I'm heading for a breakdown and I need to get it out of the way before I start writing that lab report.
Long fucking story. But hey I got an orgasm and breakfast so I'm winning.
I said I wanted pizza tattoo on my ass and the tattooist asked me what I wanted on it.
My moral compass kept pointing to his penis.
I'm ne vrr drinkjng againnnnnnnn dforeal.
As you were falling you yelled out, "save my burrito!" Priorities
Randomize
