I texted my friend, asking her how she was.
She said she’ll be busy with school and work for a while, and wants to go home.
I sent back, “I’m sure you’ll still have time to rock out with your cock out.”
She hasn’t replied.
I passed a pill bug that was stuck on its back, and without thinking, I bent over and flipped him. If it could talk, it would have probably thanked me, but I felt really good about it anyway. That’s why I think I should be the next president of the United States.
The name's Tim. Nice to meet you, maybe.
I play guitar, sing silly songs, write stuff, draw shitty pictures and make people on the Internet mad on a professional level. I drink a lot of tea and write letters to pen pals. I also think about death a lot.
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