I swear it looks like I’ve murdered someone in my shower after I’ve dyed my hair.
It’s weird, but in a way I’m verbally threatened every day. Literally told I’ll be hurt for doing something. Sad right?
My coffee + my weed = pancake taste in my mouth.
"I felt too much, he didn’t."
"Even if you know what’s coming, you’re never prepared for how it feels."
"I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."
I like to think of my blog as a place to document my thoughts, ideas, likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams. No holding back; anything goes.