I think I’m going to marry the guy who understands my humor and jokes along. He’s going to be the one that listens to my boring ass stories and still is intrigued (or maybe just staring at me). I’m fine with someone who makes fun of me here and there, but at the end of the day, I want to be the girl that he thinks about and he will be the only guy that will continually bring back butterflies.
For every bizarre thing I receive on le telephone.
Note to self: do not talk to fuckin weirdos out of pity and boredum because this may result in excessive messaging even though you never respond like the bitch you are. This leads to false hope and broken dreams and bad karma. Oopsies. Plus, this shit gets in the way of my zen-ness.