As you may already know, this is currently the state of affairs. It was fun to run and update this account for the last year and a half. I had much stronger ambitions for it than this, but that is simply the way it is.
Being ''in love'' is fun. I do miss having some semblance of control over my emotions, though, or at least the illusion of it. Now my heart is ruled exclusively by some asshole with hipster glasses.
Not to sound overdramatic, but I hope everyone who has wronged me dies in a car wreck and gets smeared into a paste on the asphalt that has to be hosed off into a drainage ditch.
Akira coughs like a baby. I don't even mean that as an insult, literally every time they cough tears spring into their eyes and they're possessed by the spirit of a little Victorian orphan with tuberculosis.
Sometimes you must be your own parents. You must teach yourself to shave, and to work, and to dress. You must fix your meals and tuck yourself into bed. It's strange. Now that I'm not alone, I feel content to be my own family.
(as I scroll through Twitter) Hmm… Beneath me, beneath me, juvenile… Petty and childish… Beneath me… This one is good. Beneath me, juvenile, beneath me,
Akira is twisted. They're constantly saying shit in their sleep like ''take me to the fucking bus before i explode.'' Once I woke up and they were lying diagonally across the bed with their legs BENEATH me. How did that even occur??
'I can change them' this and 'I can make them worse' that well I could recognize them by touch alone, by smell. I would know them blind by the way their breaths came and their feet stuck the earth. I would know them in death, at the end of the world. We are not the same.
[checks watch] Oh… Uh. I mean. I'm literally here to kill you, but. I guess you can show me your minecraft house if that's what you really want… Let's have a look then.
Don't you adore me? Aren't you my fan? Why don't you follow me? Retweet me. Love me. I'm experiencing heartburn; pins and needles. Acne. Eyebags. Sleeping until noon. Aren't I, in all my ugly glory, still your detective prince?
Not to sound overdramatic, but I hope everyone who has wronged me dies in a car wreck and gets smeared into a paste on the asphalt that has to be hosed off into a drainage ditch.