BRECKENRIDGE BREAKFAST 2oz Breckenridge Bourbon Whiskey 5mml maple syrup 2ozapple cider 1oz gingerale. Garnish with thick cut bacon rubbed with ceyene pepper and brown sugar baked in the oven. Mini eggo waffle fresh from the toaster make a slit for the glass then drizzle a melted blueberry butter infusion on top of the waffle. Served over ice. Created by Billie Keithley (source)
Let me be the first to lay my hand on the "White-Girl Bible" and say "I Can't Even." I miss my fucking family. I want a cigarette. And dear god I miss sleeping. Why can't drugs and alcohol cure the memories and all the bad situations. I want to be thinner. Yet, I want to eat all the food my heart desires without a tummie ache. I can't hear my own thoughts anymore. It feels like I can't even escape to the privacy of my head. I feel as if I have no privacy. I'm sick of people not listening. And I'm sick of being tired. And also tired of being sick. I want the love again. I want the freedom to say "yes" and the freedom to say "no." I feel as if I don't have a choice anymore. I don't want to fall victim to someone else's will. Doesn't my opinion matter? Or does the fact that I have a vagina prohibit me from having an opinion. I hate skipping school. But I hate the way school makes me want to hurl myself off a cliff. I'm scared to look in mirrors anymore. I want to be pretty. I'm tired of seeing a sad girl who doesn't like anything about herself. I miss being called beautiful. I miss my Dad. I wish people didn't joke about suicide. I wish people understood. I can't handle anyone's "problems" anymore. I just can't relate to them. My life is a fucking plane crash: awful, messy, and burning everyone alive. Why should I have to trade my confidence for love? Shouldn't being loved make you confident? I can't do this.
Smoke. Music. Sex. Tattoos. I don't know whatever intrigues me.
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