06 | four leafed clover

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : eighteenth april, 23 :;



I WILL NEVER get over people using their pictures on internet forums.

Like, it makes zero sense.

Are you Shakira? Do you have truthful hips? No? Well, then. I've made my point.

I'll never interact with somebody who's a poser on the internet. And I don't even mean Instagram, because Instagram is stupidly clever, I mean godforsaken idiots - cringe opinions and cringe-ier profile photos.

I've personal vendetta against pictures. I've established that, yes.

"Why would you keep a cat in my display? I got no Mr Paws! The guy kept asking me about Mr Paws heart surgery!" Mom hollered over the cell.

I'm sure Dorothy Parker-Evers is getting funny looks as she's sauntering down the street in her three-inched, Mary Jane platforms. "Well, can we get one?"

"Absolutely not! Are you crazy?"

Most of the things I wrote in her bio were fake as fuck. You know, better be fake than dull as boiling water, but that's just me. Maybe I'm single for good.

"So the guy only agreed to meet you up to see your pussy, so what? You at least had lobster, didn't you?"

The place is called Red Lobster for fuck's sake.

"Lobster?" The wheels are turning in her head. They are a bit rusty, from over-relying on her subconscious mind and using the thumbs logic to make every goddamn decision. "Oh lobster," Shuffling in background. "We're microwaving that tonight, yay!!"

"You didn't -"

"The guy had already left, so I thought why not?"

"You had your damn dinner bagged, how lame is that?!"

"I'd rather eat with my son. What's wrong with that?"

Safe to assume, she sprang the same shitty line on Brad, 39. He dodged a bullet today.

**✿❀○❀✿**

times are hard for single moms. good thing my parents aren't divorced. yet.
- ori

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