I don’t want to make boys laugh.
I want to make boys cum.
The ONLY reason I went to my 8AM math class was to talk to the cute boy that sits beside me.
He wasn’t there.
So I didn’t get to talk to him and I actually had to take good notes and not doodle pictures of me dying so he can look at them Thursday.
I forgot what a hangover feels like.
Just another reason smoking is better than drinking.
The girls next to me are talking about a boys twitter. Meanwhile, I’m writing sensuous poetry about popcorn.