me, sick: *furiously typing pansmione fanfiction*
my mum: honey what are you doing
me: uhhhhhhh writing
mum: what are you writing
me: *sweating profusely*
YOU ARE READING
my crappy, existential thoughts dump
Randomnote from the far future, in much better times; consider this book a diary, an archive, a live day by day biography- of the lowest point of my life so far. draw entertainment from it, by all means, but take it as a warning, of all the bad that comes...
