literally a person

224

my three girlfriends. 

haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Gwen” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body

i’m dying over here, jesus

come again? *the island falls silent. no one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. i remain slumped over the dock, not looking back to you. one hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. i repeat the question, this time louder.* come again?! *you can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. im clearly intoxicated. a bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. everyone else on the island is pretending to not notice what is going on. chris idly walks by. his eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. a handful of people hurriedly leave. one person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. they almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. but not you. you stand, petrified. a quick look at me reveals im still at the dock. you look to the exit, there’s still time. but there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* mother fuck.. what did you say?! *i slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  i look a mess. my hair is unkempt, i havent shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and im missing a shoe. but the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. you know that song about the boots that were made for walking? yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. as i drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the cody publicly, ever happened to their family? your thoughts are cut short as i now stand face to face with you. i grab your face and pull you even closer.* playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. no playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… love. i loved them… gwen…. zoey… dawn… i loved all three of em… but they…*my face is wet with tears and im blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* they left me… left… *almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* playin? playin?! *my hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. you close your eyes and see god looking at you, shrugging. ‘pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ he says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. but instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. there is only sadness.* left me… *i fall to the floor and sob.* 

Doodling on magma

I wish Cody wasnt used as a device for Sierra to have any relavence on the show. She's a good contestant, but i wish i could've seen that Cody was one too