I’ve already cried over more shit trying to date this person than I have over any ex boyfriend of mine. That’s saying something.


IDK.

I love you.

Whiskey, chocolate , cheese burgers, cheese, wax paper, tifa, my sisters, family, my best friends, music, bob Dylan, the Beatles, happy feelings, my solidarity, your cologne, memories, coda, all my cats, Lacey underwear, food comas, Netflix, butterflies, candles, ex boyfriend who have taught me life lessons, bartenders who give you more than you paid for, blue cheese , anything fried, sing a longs, friendly strangers, ice, sushi, LOVE.

I’ve never understood people who go to bars by themselves. I mean I come to visit my bartender friend when I need a strong drink. Kinda sads today. Looking around this lonely ass bar and I’m not the only one. But at least I have someone to talk to. While they just stare off into space. I wonder what they think of and how sad they actually are to be at a bar by themselves. Not talking to anyone. And then I realize I’m lucky to have good friends. Good friends who serve me a quadroople shot of makers mark on the rocks.

Life.

dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive.dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive.dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive.dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive, dont be so sensitive.