*male writer voice* i don’t remember her name. it’s not important. i met her at a record store and she went home with me because i offered to buy her cigarettes. she had amazing perky breasts. we drank cheap whiskey and had sex three times that night and then she told me she wanted to be a dragonfly because they were free. i slept with her many times after that. but one day she stopped returning my calls and i don’t know why. that was seven years ago. on monday she got hit by a bus and died. i saw it in the newspaper so i went to her funeral and it made me sad. i don’t know why. i hate my mother even though she pays my rent while i write poetry about masturbating in the shower

kinda fucked up that we’ve not only already had 4 months this year but we’re starting a 5th… looks like 2017 is the year of months

I love locking my door like…you’re not coming in lmfao

No offense but…. diet mountain dew baby new york city… 

*heavy gas mask breathing* *duct tape noises* *sound of a dr pepper bottle being opened*

i hate it when you feel those ‘feel bad now’ chemicals getting dumped into your chest