Audio version by Imrix.

I’m not good at romance.

A guy once tried to choke me and then begged for sex, and that’s just the third most horrible confession I’ve gone through. A girl in my high school refused to go out with a guy unless he stabbed his own arm with three needles to show his love. One of my teachers had to go to the hospital on New Year’s because she got a champagne bottle stuck to her vagina.

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>read a message wrong

Dislestia is -1000000/10

>send message

^me tho

>realize what was sent

>delete message

Content is going to relate to what the title says.

I am also posting this at fucking 4 AM. Fuck my life.

So, since I've pretty much made my little return back to writing in the past week or two, I've found out that a bunch of... drama, I guess has been going on.

As I look through this... well, this fucking mess I guess you could call it, I'm finding out some stuff.

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If you’re like me, you’ve accepted the fact that writing is a constant exercise of forgetting and then re-learning the single most basic goddamn rules every time. Technical stuff is easy—hey, commas go here, semicolons go there, slap in the butt and go get ‘em, tiger—but conceptual stuff?

Pff, fuck me. 

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