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i am probably going to end up with someone like this and be sickened by him every day and then separate from him and then one day see him in a way that devastates me while dropping the kids off-- say he has a fleck of egg in his moustache or bought a pair of glasses frames from zenni optical -- and move back in and undergo ketamine therapy and sort of just live the rest of my life trying to make him feel okay about himself and his consequent erectile issues and forget about who i ever was and send our daughter to pratt.

im on my way back to the fourth floor walkup by the hour sex hotel room we booked on bowery just because, and out of nowhere i come across an angel crying on a shipping container by the fish market, a halloween angel, completely white but for the two patches of stocking dirt over the backs of her kitten heels, and shes on the phone with her friend -- smirking, sort of -- probably talking about some boy from the party, and i was her mere years ago, so few they could be considered a couple, and now i feel like im walking up on myself in the complete white of timespace prolapse, and i start smiling, too, because i miss her and id loathed her the whole time through. back in the sex hotel room hes asleep but it appears hes figured out how to wedge suicide window open an inch, and its warm in the room, so i sit on the dirty floor naked, listen to the albanians laugh above me, and open the tab to my soda water.

my zoom psychotherapy price just went up after pre selling weekly units to a real estate mogul whos having some troubles with his beautiful russian wife. i sold them at twice my normal rate so im splitting the difference on that and its now $115/45 mins.

the situation is essentially that my boyfriend made the adorably audacious claim that aunt marge blows up fat and floats away in the opening sequence of harry potter six, and i maintained that it was in number three, and he told me to make a wager, and so i wagered a pair of sandy liang ballet slippers, and so now i have a pair of sandy liang ballet slippers. i spent a lot of my life before this unhappy.

why am i watching this right now i didnt sleep all night my eyes burn i have a localized migraine im worried nothing ive ever gotten in the way of affection would exist if id kept up with the pageboy cut of my teens and theres so much i could be doing -- cyrillic practice, for example, thus far just an abandoned alphabet in my moleskin -- and for whatever reason i am watching Sheldon and his smart a$$, and its all totally fine anyway, im an incarnate of the times and its totally fine that way.

blurry photo of my torso in a hanes sweatshirt in which you can very faintly make out the shadow of one nipple: ❤️5.8k 🔁48 💬422. this: ❤️6 and two dms saying kill yourself whore

dudes be like by the way im a hobbyist boudoir photographer and if you ever wanted to organize some sort of shoot where youre on the ground legs open cunt up hands tied behind you apple in your mouth like a roast hog then id be happy to do that for free!

the bot shaft discourse is going down like molasses this evening

i am legitimately making him put topical monoxidil on his shaft because he didnt ask before shaving. i didnt want that! and you should have asked :)

can someone do some simple carpentry for me? its the diorama for my vintage sylvanian calico critter collection. its the diorama for my collectoon and the canopy for my bed. i never said i wasnt age regressed. okay? okay? but ill pay you forty bucks

i wrote my manuscript on an ipad with an affixed keyboard on pressed amphetamines from the bronx. i made my life in back alley material with no formal foundation and ive never insured a trip in my life.