A male ’70s porn star (and acquaintance of Andy Warhol) wrote on my Facebook wall. This is why I encourage talking to strangers on public transport. I declare my 21st birthday a success.
Random materialistic shit that I will get myself if I ever find myself with expendable income. Thinking of splurging on a TLR camera for my upcoming 21st…
I want someone to tell me that things will be okay. I want to know that someone understands the debilitation, the irrationality, the engulfment.
I spend too much time in bed, but I don’t sleep.
He had green eyes, so I wanted to sleep with him— green eyes flecked with yellow, dried leaves on the surface of a pool.
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