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Two hundred and fifty dollars gone like that and I can’t even remember where the rest of it went to. Coffee? Maybe, only a quarter or half of the two hundred and fifty dollars I was given.
I. Am. Absolutely. Horrible. With. Money. I think I need a financial advisor or someone to stab my hands whenever I want to buy something on impulse (which happens all the time)
This weekend will be constructed by endless coffee refills and sleepless nights, fingers sore from gripping the pencil and the sides of my palms tainted black from the pencil’s lead, wrists screaming carpal tunnel carpal tunnel in agony and the eventual act of a bloodbath if I shatter into pieces. /drama llama
