on a tuesday evening: a self-portrait

Bitten down, chipped teal nails, shaking slightly (always) against the keys, against the Spotify app, against the mug of cocoa. (with the big marshmallows) A set of long Muppet-arms, patchy and dry, because I do not fucking understand how to appropriately moisturize. (A foul mouth, apparently. Fuck. Fucking fucking fuck. It’s just a satisfying angryContinue reading “on a tuesday evening: a self-portrait”