someone around me: [breathes]
me: haha bro that reminds me of this one time that 1d-
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*on a date* *leaning on elbow, chin resting on palm, looking deep into their eyes* so tell me all the reasons why you like me and think im cute
me on death row
officer: you have one last meal, what do you want
me: hmm idk what are you in the mood for
me: if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen
also me: *quadruple texts you within 3 hours*
why does my body keep producing acne why can’t you focus on more important things like growing wings or making me hot
I want to take a second to talk about Zayn. You heard me, Zayn. I still get a hard left tit when I think about that boys smirk against my pirate ship. I met Zayn around ‘97 back when we both didn’t know what to make of our lives. He was hungry, that I knew for sure. The type of guy that can take two penises and make them into a birdhouse. He was always calm, but so intense in the way he shivered his entire body down my Birthday Belly. And that was the one thing I could never figure out about Zayn. Where did he get all that meat? Sure, it was a large purse, and he was bound to carry some prizes items, but twelve hams? Where was that boy going with those hams? Well, last week we found out. Straight to Ham Heaven. And he will never slice again. Boo Boo Bird Titty Fucker. Celebrity is important. Ass Fountain.