where is african america?
when u miss the last step on the stairs
waking up cold: alright I need more blankies
waking up hot: covers thrown everywhere. sweat behind the kneecaps. 3 dead. the pillow is the sun. critical condition.
i like my fictional boys brooding and intelligent, with a shit-ton of tragic backstory and daddy issues
“everyone has their off days” I tell myself 15 days in a row