People said “You must be mad, or on drugs,” which I found a bit disappointing. What about imagination? It reflects our time that people sooner assume you’re on drugs or mad, rather than free.
I’m tired of giving my all to everyone and end up being treated like shit all the time…
kiss my thighs and tell me i’m a princess
And No, the owls are not harmed during this process.
Why is it men always want to turn the extra room into a man-cave?
Screw you I’m turning that room into a lady cave. I’m going to go in there and read romance novels, crochet, preform witchcraft, scrap book, pet a cat, worship satan, and complain to my friends that you’re not satisfying me sexually. You can go fuck yourself.
How about a craft room or library. I think everyone can agree to that.
My kind of Christmas tree
The worst part about manic depression is you can be totally okay with the world one second and then you can do something as simple as dropping a pen or someone says something to you in a tone unexpected and you’ll suddenly be angry and hateful and just want to curl up in a ball and break into tears
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