It's exhausting this whole trying to live while existing bit.
Few things I hate more than the missionary position and that is wondering what to cook for breakfast tomorrow.
Oh yeah you gotta think of these things beforehand because come morning and I'll be a grumbling mess moving about like a zombie with an existential crisis and I need to be like an automaton and know what to do exactly instead of thinking because if I begin thinking so early in the morning I'd perhaps begin dismembering people.
Right, where was I? It's night! What the fuck!
And I haven't even mentioned how I greedily salivated as my rolling eyeballs mentally processed the gorgeousness that was deep maroon and off white wound up with black.
Darling! Magnificent!
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