eadan replied to your photo “I’ll just… Leave this here while I stare at packages and sims3packs……”
I MISSED YOU. ;_;
YOU HAVE A DIFFERENT USERNAME I WAS FREAKING OUT WHEN I COULDN’T FIND YOU AAAAH COME HERE LET ME HOLD YOU
I’ll just… Leave this here while I stare at packages and sims3packs… Yeah.
Hey this month has been SUPER fun not knowing whether I’m gonna have anywhere to live for the next year hahaha…haha…ha I still don’t really know :|
Everything blog wise is pretty much done; I just need to clean up my game.
Sorry this hiatus has dragged on for so long; things got very busy irl so I had to put things on hold.
|sorry to hear you break up with your boyfriend. long-distance relationship just don't work. find someone in your country will more easier. Life goes on. you look gorgeous, will find someone to love you soon.|
I understand that you meant for this message to be helpful, nonny, but I actually found this very insulting.
No, Ron, you can’t. But I would suggest getting a cup or six of tea (or coffee; actually, you might want to get a bottle of wine) and something to eat (not popcorn, it’s not that exciting)…
Also apologies to anyone who just followed me >w>;
Happy selfie Sunday! I went shopping today. Kinda floored; so here’s a photo of me doin’ mah lil’ turn on da catwalk~
My flatmate has a super important question guise.
But what if I want point 7 to happen?
|WHAT'S SHE GONNA DO? *she said as she bits her nails anxiously|
OMG LET’S FIND OUT, SHALL WE?
Be quiet Kayra you peasant.
Idk man I kinda approve of Jennifer with Honor’s eyebrows and hair…
Jen don’t you fucking dare disagree with me on this.
“You OK in there?”
Honor’s voice vibrates through the door, some sort of high pitched hum. I’m not sure what to say back. I’m barefaced and feel better for getting that muck - that warpaint as my mother would have said - off, but somehow I’m not sure if I am okay.
No, I am.
I’m going to be fine.
And I do. I’ve been wearing the same makeup, the same eyeliner - smudged and crusting as it may be - the same eyeliner that I’d had on the night we went out. That last night of some sort of normality. I hadn’t even realised until now, but those two times I took showers… I hadn’t bothered to wash my face. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. And it wouldn’t have… Because whether I meant to or not, something in me was still trying to grip onto that last sliver of life before this.
I want to hear the words coming from her lips, but all I can hear is a tiny, genderless whisper of a voice in the back of my mind; a faint light somewhere in the distance.
It’s not magenta, it’s puce!
I shudder, then; that scalding, seasick feeling of regret creeping up my neck. That grimy, sticky, uncomfortable realisation that one person has left your life and another is filling her place. I can’t do this.
“I need to wash my face.”