I'm in this strange point of my life where I realize I'm not Gatsby. I'm not Daisy. I'm not even fucking Jordan fucking Baker. I'm Nick Carraway, and I wish I wasn't but I absolutely am. It's really depressing. I could be the voice of something fantastic. But I'm not myself at all fantastic. I can't tell you how sad I am about this.
ARCHIVE, FUCKERS (for Ace-like purposes)
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2014
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February
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- they're back
- a slow animal
- Things I will never insist again
- OCD
- this song still hurts my fucking feelings damn
- body roll
- eating sausages
- unemployment page
- shout out to all my lovers
- dem foos
- american psycho face mask
- What a mess
- very fun gal
- TBH
- woke up face down ass up
- only leather......can make me feel this way
- romantic as hell ma
- have a swell day as swollen as my nips
- sulfuric methane
- it's my birthday tomorrow
- you're past, past prime
- my grandmother thinks i'm gay
- auntie virus
- wordpress, i barely know her
- ctchr in th ry
- my excellence:
- corner temper
- spectacular weight gain
- toasted
- melted prongs rusty tug
- :(
- melodramatic strikes again
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February
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