Low Key, I’m A Fucking Disaster
Remember how in February I decided to clean up my act?
That lasted about three months. I’m now off the wagon, mentally right back where I was the week after Super Bowl, minus the screaming, crying outburst on Parson’s Blvd and God knows where with no cab in sight. Nope. This time I’m just numb on the surface,
Death To All FuckBoys
…acknowledge that your fuckboy lover does not, can not right now, and may possibly never love and respect you… do some introspection: Why did we pick the fuckboy? Is he really just that charming that we didn’t know he was a fuckboy, that he’d never appreciate in manhood? Was it the D?