Wish me luck fuckers.
Tomorrow I head into the lions den.
My mouth tastes like cigarettes and malicious intent.
I am hoping that by the time she tastes my tongue it will not be flavored of gin and unadmirable plans.
But who knows, right?
It probably will.
I'm such a terrible person, after all.
I can only hope that it'll stay that way long enough for her to realize it.
(:
I'm so sick.
I love it.
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