someone once wrote a sort of horrible quite sad song about my personal failings and i have never been able to forget all the lyrics even though it is a good sixand a half minutes long and on dark nights of the soul i like to sing it over and over in my head as a reminder that i am not very valuable
I was pretty white girl wasted last night i think embarrassingly so but this morning i have woken up and like??? my cold is gone. Probably because all of my white girl cocktails had lots of fruit in them.
the bar manager wanted to coitus guigou ?? i was chuffed bc i get all my gratification vicariously thru bb
how cute was ur packed lunch!! how loved r u lil babb xxxx
guigou actually brought me a packed lunch of feijoas , drugs, caramel easter eggs and pizza which she heated and wrapped in tinfoil bc i was sad and then she brought it to me at uni even though she did not need to go to uni herself. nobody including my signific ant others and my mother has ever made me a beautiful lunch such as i experienced today. autocorrect wants to make the word ‘feijoa’ into ‘fedora’ the more you know
the uni pharmacy is closed and so are all the food places and all i want in this world is a diet coke Nd sushi and i have written 0% of this essay which is due literally right now and i am crying in public but I am wearing really cute socks
“Bad books on writing tell you to ‘WRITE WHAT YOU KNOW’, a solemn and totally false adage that is the reason there exist so many mediocre novels about English professors contemplating adultery.”—Joe Haldeman (via beeppeebbeep)