Ocelots and bitches.

The moment the lecturing starts is the moment I stop listening.

Save yourself the breath.

I just need a moment to rage a little.

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I hate it when people say, “It’ll be alright,” because, no, frankly it won’t. Not until I fix the damn problem and whatever fault of mine created it. Then it’ll be “all right.”

Whose bloody idea was it to make white boots?

Do you know what we do with those?