Moods this week-

I’ll never be the first choice.

Not even for myself.

The soul slithers, snake-like impressions in the mind.

I fucking hate cooking.

Is that disturbed?

Never trust the people who laugh too hard, walk too slow, and talk without saying anything at all.

Ok…but I didn’t ask you to?

Calm sitting on the subway is really panicked fears of impending doom.

An attack on the heart, a panic: Did you know?

I hate her. I don’t know her, but oh I hate her.

A boomerang of feelings: never linear.

velvet, while ugly, is Flambeau.

Oh what a great listener the narcissist is. Oh what a terrible replier the narcissist isn’t.




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