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“I would never kill you,” he assured me. “Maim. But never murder.”
I was too busy writing sad ballads to unrequited love in my head and planning a life where my hand would be my boyfriend.
“He was being an asshole,” I said. “He deserved it. What a dick knocker. Fucking candy-ass bitch whore.”
He was confused why sometimes a handsome boy smiling meant something more than a pretty girl.
“Life is about chances. Unless you take them, you’ll never know what they could bring.”
“Look at him. He’s adorable and knows how to put on his own pants. We did good.”
“Denial is such a comforting place to be.”
“You’re about to get porked and I want to know what kind of sex face he has.”
