How many photobooth photos are KILLED in the making of this super secret, not that great blog that nobody reads but me.
I love oranges, but I'm sort of allergic to them. It's so Romeo & Juliet except no one dies but the oranges and let's face it, they had it coming.
I've been thinking a lot about the idea of obligation lately.I abhor the idea of obligation, but my identity is pretty wound up with my concept of duty. What does this mean?
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