Coffee, fabulous friends, erections, and Pulp Fiction. I love nights like these. Filled with my Kitten and sneaky rp texts. I can’t stop dancing on the inside.
I know that all of you who are close to me already know this, but listening to Vivaldi again reminds me that violins are the essence of my sexual appetite.
Cryptic messages ahoy!
I cannot do this anymore. I need to live for me. I need to not be afraid of cleaning the house to find out that you’ve lied to me again. I feel so betrayed and traumatized by it that I can’t sleep. How is this fair?