stop calling my apartment porn island.
you were licking his little sister's watercolors and trying to paint with your tongue.
he refused to get me toilet paper before we started drinking so I keep wiping with his towel.
Sorry about all the noise last night. We were trying to break bottles by kicking soccer balls at them. If it's any consolation, there's shattered glass and blood all over my kitchen.
I think if I could use my boobs as a second pair of hands everything would be ok
There's never a time that i stay at this apartment that when i wake up in the morning and sit outside to smoke a cigarette that i don't feel ashamed of myself.
and by clear my head i mean get drunk and cry myself into oblivion.
I'm drinking wine from the cap of my laundry detergent container, wearing my bed sheet as a cape. How do you think I'm taking it?
This couch is so comfortable I can tell if it's like a waterbed or I pissed myself
I worry about your feelings an awful lot for somebody who gets off on making you cry
I want to have sex in my car again before I put the car seat back in
Grateful to be alive soliciting dick pics. Thankful i'm alive for these little things and especially these big ones too.
the night literally screamed "cock and ball torture"
on a scale from 1 to "can't put a toothbrush in your mouth without gagging" how hungover are you?
My boyfriend's mom is the manager of Wendy's. The same one I took a pregnancy test in.
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