February 2012
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i wish i could be like one of those girls who is like “No, he is mine, bitch! get your own!!”
there are little scars on my throat
my last name should be lisbon
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there is a noose hanging in the garage
i couldnt do it
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wetcoke replied to your photo: as worse as it gets
owl eyes
guys here compare to cats and Kuala bears
me and my roomie ate 3 pounds of chocolate in 2 days..
how much will you pay me for my body?
i dont understand how people can sleep
i want to be awake as long as my heart beats
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Anonymous asked: what are you wearing?
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i havent slept for 3 days. i just want it to be 11 already so we can just pass out together in a cramped space.
i hate sleeping alone these days.
i dont want to have sex with any one. i dont want anyone to want anything from me, may be except sex. cause either way i wont feel anything.
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Anonymous asked: lets go on a date?
Anonymous asked: do u fuck on first dates?
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ask me questions about my shitty life and my roomate
jerryspringr:
fuck pens i need a drug pal
my roomie made me a meatball sandwich and gave me a huge box of cereal
a post about me being high and asking for foood foood fooood
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i am back to being numb.
i promise i will never try to change myself.
i will just go on from place to place, bed to bed; i wont feel anything.
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life update
me and jason are over, i guess
i live with a guy now
today i was so high my whole entire life flashed through in front of my eyes and everything felt like a horrible lie.
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on valentines day, i kissed one guy in the morning and had shower sex with someone else at night
“She had an overwhelming desire to tell him, like the most banal of women. Don’t let me go, hold me tight, make me your plaything, your slave, be strong! But they were words she could not say. The only thing she said when he released her from his embrace was, “You don’t know how happy I am to be with you.” That was the most her reserved nature allowed her to express.”
you know i can go back home
tie the bed sheet to the ceiling fan
and have one last laugh
I took my girlfriend to your last poetry reading, she said. yes, yes? I asked. she’s young and pretty, she said. and? I asked. she hated your guts.
then she stretched out on the couch and pulled off her boots. I don’t have very good legs, she said.
all right, I thought, I don’t have very good poetry; she doesn’t have very good legs.
scramble two.