It's time to go.

all a girlie needs is to be surrounded by her trinkets and have ambient lighting and maybe an open window with a slight breeze

went to trader joe’s today and my cashier handed me my 2.55 in change and pointed at the clock which read 2:55 and said “look at that. that’s liquid time… serendipity… have a nice ride”

you're listening to 107.6 THE CUNT. that was limp bizkit's hit song rollin' off the album chocolate starfish and the hot dog flavored water. if you are having thoughts of suicide it's okay to reach out and ask for help. there are people who care. anyway in the next hour we've got puddle of mudd coming up for you followed by some classic drowning pool

im sorry, tortures??

Do y’all not remember the arm burn? The hand squeezes to rattle your bones? The ritualistic stories where you beat up on each other’s arms until their red? (Look it’s roses!) all the weird little pain rituals we did to each other as kids?

ah yes, the three genders: the broken, the beaten, and the damned

the bravery of a girl who has to decide what is for dinner and then cook it and then wash dishes every day forever and ever.

That's called being an adult

no it’s called being the bravest girl on planet earth

going through my microsoft word archives is great fun because i always find the wildest shit in there and by “the wildest shit” i mean the time i tried to rewrite the entire bible from scratch at the age of eleven and a half

I would read this in its entirety.