Hey, guess who's back after almost two years! Im back with more trauma and ready to write about it<3
This poem is about a old friend who i always smoked with behind the bushes after art class

Im struggling alot with my body image and my style and on top of that the judgement of others don't really help.
I wish somebody just came to my house and made me some outfits ****. Feel like im being dramatic but it really bothers me that I constantly feel like **** in my clothes.

Cleaning out my drafts

Dyed my hair black, cut bangs and now I look like Edna from the Incredibles. No regrete

I bought a cow bag. It's legit a cow plushie as a bag. HE NEEDS A NAME, SUGGEST SOME NAMES IN THE COMMENTS??

wished relationships with friends could last longer.