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I am literally so exhausted I cannot write for shit much less think of intelligent things to write. My paradise consists of cushy gym clothes, air mattresses, and coffee. My sense of humor is greatly diminished. I have become a glorified chew toy for my furry niece Svengoolie. I am never taking another 12 hour drive. I long for my bed and feel pathetically pathetic.


1. Amazing, thoughtful, genuinely nice guy
2. Cup of tea

I would like 1 to bring me 2 and snuggle with me until I fall asleep.

Truly there is nothing else in this world I want.

I think that’s what dreams are for.