I’ve taken care of it.
Help
He isn’t a person, more a series of unfortunate sound bites
A general debate ensued after that message but all we've thrown up from it, like a bulimic, is trite. Weight is but a number and it depends on how you look which in your case is good, so let that girl get on with it. The dress finally came, I love it, I look like St Francis
God, I don’t understand, why do you do this to me?
What a relief. I do try and keep up with your inner monologue, but I struggle
It would never make me cry. I enjoyed that message
Well, so have you me, but you’ve also made me smile an awful lot and that’s what I chose to focus on. I was thinking of my fondest memory of you was lying under the London eye on a summers night and you probably don’t even remember it. How's that for uncomfortable
That made me cry
Somewhere new and somewhere old
White city dog race. Come on, you know I’m shit at this. I would say sit on a bench
Is this to entertain him? If it’s sunny all the time I would get bubble tea and cigarettes and lie in a park being nonchalant.
She felt she may as well succumb to her inevitable plumpness, so joined the kittens on the floor where they lapped from a bowl of cream. She did this every day, every mealtime, so that night by night she saw her thighs stretch, not as white as cream, no, but marbled with the delicate pink and blue of veins. Her stomach became distended and the folds in the flesh crunched beneath her as she rose or bent, but especially bent, and her body groaned. Soft and nacreous, her skin sent up fumes like incense exhaled at some slaughter, some sacrifice of the vanities.