Remember the other day when you told me I had pit stains? I have cried every 15 minutes on the half hour since you told me that. I'm racked with self-doubt, I have panic attacks, I'm claustrophobic, germophobic, phobiaphobic. I talk to myself, I talk to my cats, I talk to three separate shrinks about the fact that my cats often respond to me in my mothers voice. And yesteday when that stupid pretty surgical nurse handed you a pair of latex gloves, I almost killed the guy whose leg I was stiching up because I couldn't stop thinking of the two of you having sex on a box of steaks. Why a box of steaks? Because my father had an affair with a female butcher. And as I mentioned before, I am insane.
stwberryzaiquiri:
dear god please tell me that cow tattoo is some sort of photoshop thing 