Fantasies are ass.

Really.

I have a fantastic imagination. It’s not bragging if it’s true. But this fucking fantastic brain of mine has done little in its life besides let me skate through school pretty lazily and completely and utterly decimate all of my stupid emotion feeling things.

Here’s my usual pattern: I find an object of attraction/intrigue (or it finds me in the really sick, twisted situations), I am attracted/intrigued, I play out every fucking scenario of how I could (but, really, never fucking will) interact with said object, when nothing comes of it (because I fucking imagine it instead of do it… or if I ever act on it, I awkwardly fuck it up or half-ass it and life’s a bitch, as per usual, and it bears no fruit) I go a little fucking insane and implode silently. And then I eat a shit ton of food.

So now I’m fat obviously.

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Andddd the fucking gif doesn’t go. Sweet.

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