Shit post! Post art! Vent! I’m gonna force life into this motherfucker
I have friends who I don’t think will ever reach out to me again. Who I’ll never get coffee with, get a meme from, or even celebrate with. It hurts knowing I’ll look back at photographs of big moments and see them in them. It’ll be like seeing the deceased in family photos. It sucks.
All I know is he’s why liquid death’s Arnold Palmer is called dead billionaire
Welcome! Now I wish you luck in finding your crowds
No the quintessential male fantasy is being William Dafoe
But like… ruder?
It’s like sugar
McRib time
I think it’s hard to get unstuck from the thinking of yourself as a provider at times. I honestly forget I’m providing for myself, too.
The optimal run is to chase it with your vyanse