I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.
I just wish you’d tell me that you don’t care about me at all anymore so I can stop pretending that I have a chance.
Or just tell me you still care for me like you used to so I can stop feeling so damn pathetic for loving you for so long.
Your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest so you could howl over losing a man.
This HR dept doesn’t negotiate with Terrorists.
The ending is worth clicking for.
This post had me at finger pants.
I will never understand why stripping is seen as degrading.
Like… the job description is literally “I am so hot that you could never get me in real life so you’re going to have to pay me to dance for you.”
Trying to drop subtle hints that you’re queer around new people, but usually just ends up like