I remember two summers ago after ending my relationship with satan, I went on a nice little bender or sorts. I pretty much did whatever the fuck I pleased until my body just called it quits. While doing this, the ex, with her many drunk-dialed tyrades, told me that I was fake etc etc etc for doing all the wonderful new things I was doing.
Think mid-life crisis at 28. I had no idea what she was talking about because at the time, it felt good and good was the only feeling I cared about.
Now I know what she was talking about. (To an extent mind you. She can't be 100% right.)
But yeah. It's sad. Death to posers.
Think mid-life crisis at 28. I had no idea what she was talking about because at the time, it felt good and good was the only feeling I cared about.
Now I know what she was talking about. (To an extent mind you. She can't be 100% right.)
But yeah. It's sad. Death to posers.
are you talking about #2? you see, to an extent, in her what you once saw in yourself?
Im sorry.
I was watching "Old School". It seemed like a fun idea.
I promise I'll never kegstand and streak to the Quad again.