story of our lives.

in college library, pandering bruised hopes (or, pumping them up for no good reason) using lame tarot readings as a means.

this is us, deal with it.
"Will i be able to rest my head in his collar bones, and breathe in peace?"

&

"will my warm, sweaty hands find his magical fingers without hers in between?"


OMMA-GOD.

BECAUSE i have to write more because somebody just asked me to, here it goes. sudfhgldlfrweiujtsklhfkjsdg jhsdfghsdgsghdsa
AND HERE IS THE SOMEBODY APOLOGISING FOR MY VERY STONED FRIEND...! YES WE ARE PATHETIC BUT HEELLOOOOOOOO.... WE ARE STILL REAL.... YOU DONT KNOW SHIT..! BLAH@!
^

lameeyebrowwomansucks.