Thanks so much for passing me a note that read “Don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong to be gay. Anyone.” It was really sweet and made me tear up a little. Too bad that wasn’t what we were discussing/arguing over. If you, however, magically see this and want to invite me into your bed, I wouldn’t say no. (Mostly ‘cause I need a bed, but, also because you’re cute.)
You know, so EVERYONE will know I’m a faggot.
Could I get a job rating the comfort level of sofas, when slept on? Being homeless has made me really good at that. Pro tip: broken-in leather cushions are the most comfortable.
if it makes you uncomfortable to have me run the espresso machine due to my stability “issues,” why did you hire me? You’ve known me since I was 12, you’ve certainly become aware of my abilities in the decade we’ve been acquaintances.
I was curious as to why, after 4 months, I still wasn’t fully trained on that machine.
Fuck you for vilifying me when you sat there and said nothing while mom uttered the words “you’re not welcome here.” Fuck you fuck you fuck you.