If I’m being honest,
Henry Cavill is so fine, it really ought to be a jail-able offense.
Kofi Siriboe better be glad I can’t have anymore kids or I would try to catch his ass, slippin’.
I would absolutely sit on Terrible Johnny Steven’s face if given the opportunity.
Let me run into Mike Colter somewhere and get locked up!
I don’t care what you say, Nick Jonas can get it.
I can still see.
I can still feel unrealistic shit about unrealistic things.
I can pretend too.
But I what I won’t do is pretend to like shit that I don’t actually like anymore.
What I won’t be doing is surrounding myself with people I wished loved me who don’t.
And the last thing you will catch me at, from here on out, is hurting myself to help you.
Or you. Or you.
I don’t know what round this is, but I’m still punching.
And that’s the whole truth.


2 responses to “My last week of being 43”

    1. Queen Rude Avatar

      Thank you! I appreciate that!


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