Inebriation.

I seem to keep writing things when I'm inebriated. I think maybe this calls for a new label to be made. 


Elise: Eighteen. Drunk as fuck and I think I may have just had the time of my life. I wanted to kiss a boy you know, because he's lovely rather than because I think that he's slamming or whatever lingo's going around right now. And he is lovely you know. A real charmer in a very awkward way. But I'm not sure that I like him, I just want to kiss him, find out what happens, you know?
Of course you dont, you don't exist. 


Oh and a sober update? Mother thinks I'm gay.