i carried my fear of the world the way an animal carries a kill in its jaws but in reverse: i was the kill, the gift. whose feet would i be left at?

what a way to word it.

perhaps i would’ve just — not.

there’s old fashioned routes. buying people a drink, chatting, all of that?

* from zero to chill in five seconds.

“ hell yes ! turn it up ! “

“ oh, i love christmas ! and i never get to celebrate it properly, so i grab it when i can. “ she laughs softly, bopping along to the music.

I believe you’re missing my point. it’s not about the drinking. i’m just sayin’, what happened to old fashioned methods.

/ thinking

/ as he should be

/ sammy <3

Where is her favourite moose? She’s gonna kick his ass for not talking to her in a while.

…. roses would be acceptable. nice, even.

where’d he think she got the bong from?

and how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

i'm sitting on a bench in coney island, wondering where did my baby go?

x.com/i/events/15358…

taps microphone. is this thing on?

cocks her shotgun . time to get back to hunting.