(no subject)
"I can't believe out of all things that could quite possibly happen, she stole my Fucking pillow! All I'm left with are these sweat filled linens, that for some God awful reason taste like Vanilla. It's weird and by all accounts Fucked up - Seriously! What kind of a deal did I get out of all of this? How did I go from guardian of the Cookie Jar to the mouse fighting for crumbs in the cabinets? Why can't beggars be choosers? I guess it's not that bad though, Lord knows I've had my taste... at least I know how her insides look."