in which a reviewer tells me that i am poetry with a snarky grin, and i just swell.
bc what are life goals even when you can have this.
rl is a shaken martini being rattled on a rollercoaster as the earth splits in half, and i am not as worried as i probs should be. the zen is real tonight and i am half tempted to just wrap myself into a burrito and sleep until the sun comes up.
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