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There’s a level of confessional that only occurs when someone is driving you home late at night
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the holy trinity: the father (fuck it we ball) the son (it is what it is) the holy spirit (to be cringe is to be free)
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are we sure the only way out is through? like. are we sure we can't just. go around
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does anyone else feel sooooo crazy and insane but in the most boring way possible
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People who are not afraid to text you 40 times in a row and don’t take it personally if you haven’t replied are literally the most valuable members of our society and should be recognized as such
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Girl who cares so much it makes her sick: whatever I don’t even care
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the front seat of the car is a type of confessional
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the most fun a girl can have is finding parallels, noticing patterns, making connections, contemplating
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THIS POEM GOES OUT TO THE BLACK MOLD IN THE BATHROOM
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Olivier Theyskens: ‘Gloomy Trips’ Autumn/Winter (1998)
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often the choice comes down to eat a meal and shower or kill yourself
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i just don’t have the employable spirit
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in the club wondering if people can tell i’m traumatized by the way i carry my body
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