Wednesday, December 10, 2014

feather report

Real luv must be the glorious days before my laptop left me. I am now merely a shell of the person I once was. When I sulk sadly, it's a guarantee I'm mourning my lost friend. The thing was my best friend. It was the only computer that I never felt the need to use an incognito window. THAT MUST BE REAL LUV.

I don't think I could even get myself to own another. I'm ruined. Nothing will ever be good enough.

Where's the goddamn remote?

ARCHIVE, FUCKERS (for Ace-like purposes)