wee gonna clean my room bec. my friends will come over tomorrow morning :>

...

wouldnt it ib niceee

k

asdfghj

We feel better thinking it’s all been out of our hands. There was no choice involved. They were our “one.”

We want that perfect story sans coincidence or choice. We’ve been fed the normalcy — nay, necessity — of love to be fated or destined.

We tell ourselves the love stories that make sense. There’s no fault in that.

im hooommmeee