June 2012
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In less than 12 hours, I will be 21.
Nobody knows how fucking excited I am.
Dear
Fucking
Lord.
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“Nansi’s over there casting spells or summoning demons or something.”
Angels are people with lighters who see mine isn’t working, offer theirs before I can ask, and then aren’t a creep about it.
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In the last month my mom has:
-bleached the hell out of her hair
-bought doc martens
-asked me to design her a tattoo
Who are you and what have you done with my mother
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“They make doc martens for dolls!”
“YOU COULD PUT THEM ON A CAT!”
The word of the day is “hangover”
I just want to spend all day curled up in bed pretending I don’t exist.
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Work is literally one big series of exceedingly awkward interactions.
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