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So I had no voice at work today, and since I work at the Disney Store

classysushi:

I had a little note pad, in which I wrote, “Can’t speak, Ursula the Sea Witch stole my voice! But I’m happy to assist you!” 

And a little girl came up to me, read my notepad, grabbed my hand, and dragged me all around the store,

asking random guys if they’d like to be my “true love” so I can get my voice back and stay human. 

…it was the most adorable, awkward situation I had ever been in. 

Everyone else got a kick out of my reference too. 

(Source: disney-garden, via keeponsmilingthroughthetears)

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Stream of Consciousness No. 1

Let’s just know each other and get what we both deserve. We should refine our togetherness down to one word but it better not be love. Love is about as real as skydaddies. It would be best if we sifted it like we’re looking for gold and let all the sand sneak through so that only the good stuff stays and we can put it in a bin with all the other good stuff we find together. The sand is just a filler and I don’t like fillers. I don’t like waiting and fillers make you wait for whatever it is you’re really looking for. We’ll just take the best of whatever is between us and put it in a bin and share it. The bin can sleep between us and once the ride ends with a screech and you and I go away from each other we can split the good things in the bin and walk away with the refined goodness that we together made. No filler-sand and no more love.

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I think

that I’m an extremely easy person to get bored with.

People fall in and out of love with me so quickly it’s i n s a n e .

No one who’s had a choice has 

ever

stayed.

Not even one.

Not

ever.

3 notes

I’m really no different. I’m not smarter and I certainly don’t rise above the earthly.

Orgasm.

That’s all I want half the time. I need it to sleep and to not feel sick to my stomach after thinking too hard about myself and my more-than-numerous shortcomings. I need it to calm down and quit it with the shaking.

Expand, cuntract, bite down.

My sexuality is a drug addiction. Packaged to be glamorous but still deadly as fuck. The more I have, the more I want. I’ve taken to using it to drive people away. If I’m afraid I’ll love you, I’ll make you scream and claw me and then I’ll never talk to you again so that I don’t have to deal with you or the feelings you force on me.

Didn’t you know? It’s my goal in life to be cold as ice and independent. So fuck me harder and stop thinking about me, because we both know I think about you more and that is just NOT okay with me. The scariest thing someone could do is tell me to stop. (Now what? How do I make this go away without any questions?)

It’s kinda gloomy how sex is supposed to bond people, because it’s the most efficient means of pushing people away that I’ve come across so far. 

Yes. More.

I think I’ll stick with this for awhile.

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