Awkers, will I ever have a healthy, normal relationship? Will I ever have a healhy, normal hookup? Or am I destined to have climb-the-fence, alley-behind-the-bar, rough-trade trysts until doomsday? Who am I kidding. What’s normal anyways? A social construct based on outdated, Victorian-era morals; THAT’s what.
I don’t remember if I did all of my drugs or lost them.
I’m at work with the remnants of last night’s makeup on.
I didn’t even catch his first name.
I don’t think I gave my real name.
I vaguely remember his friend standing by and watching.
Would I have it any other way?
-Awk.in.the.name.of.Love[Lust].
…think it o-o-over
