If I could stretch my foot far enough into my mouth to shut it up, I would’ve done it years ago. Covers over my head is as far as I go nowadays. Keep the top covered. Keep the shit from seeping out and ruining my apartment floor. I don’t have the money to spare for cleaning supplies; that’s the only thing keeping my brains in my head. But don’t tell that to my mother. Or do. I don’t care.

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