sarahpie

The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning, won't exist.

Sarah is retarded. For the purpose of today's blog, we're going to define "retarded" as "twitterpated."

Like I said, Sarah is retarded. It's nice. It makes me smile. I like the things happening in my tummy. Maybe it's the safety net of the impossibility of the whole thing. I don't know. Maybe I'm an asshole. That's possible. Maybe it's fuckin stupid that these things happen the way they do and not how they're supposed to. Maybe that last one isn't a "maybe," but a "definitely." Maybe none of it matters and I'm just going to enjoy the moment. Yeah. I'm going with that.