Joy & Hating Kids

In two days, it is going to be my boyfriend’s birthday…

It still feels weird to say “my boyfriend.” Not because it’s the first time that I’ve been in a relationship or anything, but really just because this isn’t where I saw myself ending up.

Its been a rough year for my heart… there is no other way to put it.

But right now, even as I try harder and harder to find a reason to not be as happy as I am, I can feel absolutely nothing but joy.

Joy for everything that is going on in my life. Joy for having such amazing people in my life.





Chloe. (Who I literally just got off the phone with)

And of course, my boyfriend, the most amazing guy that I have ever met, Yuzhe “Andy” Yang.

I can not express to you all how amazing it feels to have you all as friends (or boyfriends lol). You literally mean the world to me, and I thank God everyday for allowing me this time with you.

I have met so many people over the years, and so many times have I felt that I would keep them with me forever. And so many times have I been let down.

You guys have never let me down, and I don’t think that you ever will.

I don’t think that you could.

But this post isn’t about my love for you guys, it’s actually just about me. And my love for me. Because, if I am to be true to myself, I should only be talking about myself. Right?

So I’m freaking happy, man.

I have let go of everything and everyone that was holding me back. Anything that has hindered my growth, and anyone that has hindered my spirit. I have tossed them all aside to make room for newer, better things.

Because I was holding on to some serious shit. And some really shitty people to.

And if you read this, and you feel like I’m talking about you, then I probably am. But then, people usually know when their shitty. So this shouldn’t be a surprise. But just in case it is…

You. Yes, you. The person getting offended. You are literally a piece of shit.

And like the dirt that I walk on, you are beneath me.

But, again, enough negativity. This is a positive post.

Stay positive, Mikey J…

So… to get back to where I was at the beginning… in two days, it will be my boyfriend’s birthday.

He’ll be 24, but I think he’s 26 in Chinese years. I run the risk of being racist by saying that, but he told me something about how traditional (old)  Chinese people count age differently.

I like that though, because it means I’m dating an older guy.

I’m dating and older guy…


I enjoy the sentiment of being the young man who seduces old people for money. Men or women, money is genderless.

And my boyfriend is a computer engineer, who is currently working for Microsoft.

You see the correlation there? I certainly do.

Foresight people. It’s called having foresight.

The only downfall is that he’s causing me to start thinking about kids.

That’s literally disgusting.

I lie. Yogurt is disgusting. Kids just kind of suck.

Fortunately, we’re in a homosexual relationship, so having a child would require a bit of fortitude, a lot of effort, and about $40k.

If I’m lucky, last part should speak to the frugality in his Chinese blood…

Because I hate amusement parks, and I don’t ever want to have to spend an entire day at one. And I wont have to.


Because I won’t have kids…

Because I’m gay…

Homosexuality: For people who hate spending $10 for lemonade, standing in line for roller coasters, and seeing people’s awful bodies in bathing suits.

You’re welcome.

Oh, how I do enjoy myself…



Mikey J


Poorly Worded Letter of Passion

Great Emporer An,

I know I’m always the first person to call something “gay,” but I warn you now. This is going to be super fucking gay…

Because this is a letter to you. It’s only for you, though I want everyone to see it. I want everyone to know how amazing you are. I want everyone to be as mesmerized by you as I am.

You are quite possibly the most amazing person that I have ever met. There is not a single flaw in your character. And I think that it is exactly that which keeps me so drawn to you.

I think that it is precisely the fact that you are a good person, that makes me want to be around you so much. And to be a better person.

You’re goals babe.

You have a level head, and yet you feel passion when necessary. You’re booksmart, but not to the extent that it prevents you from having social intelligence. You’re shy, but in the way that makes people want to get to know you.

You’re tons of things. But I think what is most important to me is that you are balanced.

To me, you are balance.

You keep me balanced.

Whenever my reaction is disproportionate to something, you are able to pull me back. I need that.

I fly off the handle pretty easily.

Everyone says that I’m acting different, but in a good way. They say I’m nicer (which fuck all of you because I’ve always been nice). They say I’m calmer. They say I seem more at peace.

And I don’t want to be that stupid movie cliché and say it’s all because of you, but you certainly helped.

So I’m feeling all of this right now, and we’re hitting the sweet spot, while you’re doing an internship in China.

For two whole months.

We will be in different time zones for two whole months. I won’t be able to hug you for two whole months.

I tried to get myself in the mindset of not being able to talk to you whenever before you left, but i wasn’t ready.

I can honestly feel the distance between us.

And it’s sucks. Because I already miss you.

A fucking lot.

And I think I’m falling in love with you.

And you’re in China.

And I have to wait.

Two whole fucking months.

Until you come back.

And I can tell you this in person.

To your face.

And watch the way your eyes light up as you smile.

I can’t wait for you to come home babe. And I mean it when I say home, because even though China is your real home, you belong here, with me.


Your doggie

Queer Struggle

This is a paper that I wrote a little over a year ago… I was going through my old documents and found it. I read it over, and while I cringed a bit at some of the grammar, and how contrived it felt as a whole, I did still like it. And it’s a great marker of my development in writing. So I thought I would share it with you guys…

Just a preface… The music video referenced is “Hurricane,” by 30 Seconds to Mars. You should totally watch it before reading, just so that you know what I’m talking about. Also, Jared Leto is in it, and he’s fucking hot. Here’s the link:

And here we go…


Queer Struggle: Hurricane (Thirty Seconds to Mars)

In 2009, the band Thirty Seconds to Mars released a self-titled short film for their song Hurricane. In it, the three men are followed by, and battle with mysterious masked men, and appear in sexual scenarios with women dressed in bondage type clothing. It is my deduction that the images depicted in this film are meant to represent the struggle and inability of the queer person to conform to the standards set forth by a heteronormative society, because of their desire to be accepted into said society.

The film is split into three chapters: birth, life, and death. I do not believe that these chapters are meant to break the film into any truly distinguishable segments, but rather to represent the mortality of the heteronormative standard in a queer space, as well as that of queerness in a hetero-space. In other words, the film is just as much about the inability of heteronormativity to penetrate the queer as the inability of the queer to penetrate heteronormativity. The two are forever at odds.

There are three main metaphors in the film. The first is the band members, who represent the queer person. I will refer to them collectively as Thirty. The second is the masked men, who represent both the struggle of the queer person, as well as heteronormative society. The third is every woman in the film. They represent the approved object of desire.

The standard set forth by a heteronormative society is that the object of desire for a male should always be female, or that the object of desire for the masculine should always be feminine. What occurs in Hurricane is a type of struggle between the queer male (or the gay male), and his inability to place his desire where society has told him that it should be. This struggle is shown through the depictions of violent fights between Thirty, and the masked men. The film’s sporadic “sex” scenes also depict this struggle, with the women being the objects that the queer person struggles, but ultimately fails to desire.

In the article Coming Out in College: The Struggle for a Queer Identity, Robert A. Rhoads analyzes fellow author Frank Browning’s take on queerness as always involving a degree of “rage.”[1] I think that this is a very good place to begin, as there is a great deal of violence depicted in Hurricane. Take, for example, the subway scene, about four minutes in. A masked man leads a woman dressed in what may be bondage gear up a stairway, and forces her to kneel in the center of a room. Thirty enters the same room, sees this woman, and begins a pseudo-science fiction style fight sequence with the masked man. As I have stated, the fight represents the struggle of the queer person, but perhaps more important than the fight itself are the individual actions taken by each character in the scene.

Upon initial entry, Thirty appears wary of the situation that he stepping into. As the masked man approaches him, he takes a step back before the two begin to fight, and the fight itself does not last very long. In fact, after a few very dramatic blows, it ends with the masked man stumbling off screen. This would appear to be a victory for the queer person. However, the reason that this is not the case is because of what happens immediately after, when Thirty walks over to the woman, who is now on her hands and knees, with her back arched, and kisses her on the lips.

He has fought with society in attempt to reject the standards that are being forced upon him, but he has ultimately given in to his desire to be accepted. This is his struggle and his failure. Thirty’s inability to reject the woman, or the appointed object of desire, is reminiscent of the queer person’s inability to reject the heteronormative standards forced upon them by a heteronormative society.

Heteronormativity is “an unseen force that dictates the boundaries of presumed normal sexuality and even normal social interactions.”[2] It is society’s way of keeping individuals in line with the way that it believes things are meant to be, and makes outcasts of those who do not fall in line. Because of this, the struggle of the queer person to fit into a heteronormative society will always result in failure. This is because queerness is the literality of difference. Thirty’s fight against the heteronormative standards being forced upon him, and also his fight to be accepted into a heteronormative society, always end in failure because he is attempting to conform, while by his very nature being different.

This paradox of trying to make conformity out of difference is shown about 7 ½ minutes in, when Thirty meets up with a woman (dressed far more modestly than any of the others) at a park bench. He approaches her with caution, sits down beside her, and the two begin to kiss very passionately. During this, the woman handcuffs Thirty to the bench, and gets up as a group of masked men approach. Thirty takes a key from around his neck, unlocked the cuffs, and fights with the men as the woman stands off to the side, observing. After the fight is over, she flees.

In Gay and Greek: The Deployment of Gender by Gay Men in Fraternity and Sorority Life, Anthony Clemons says that gay men in fraternities are able to be accepted because they adapt this sort of “white, masculine” identity, even though their being gay does not fit in with the rest of the fraternity.[3] This is similar to what occurs during the park scene in Hurricane, in the sense that Thirty is adapting a sort of hetero-identity in order to conform with the heteronormative society, however he is unable to do so because by his very nature, he is different.

His being locked to the bench represents his being locked into his queerness, and society does not accept queerness. This is why the men attack him. And even though he is able to win this small battle with society, he is still unable to conform to it and desire what it deems appropriate, and thus the approved object of desire evades him once more. Thirty may be able to act as if he conforms, however he will never truly be able to do so.

The representation of the innate inability to desire what a heteronormative society deems appropriate is present throughout the entire film, but at no point is Hurricane more effective at showing this than at the seven minute mark. At this point, Thirty is knocked unconscious and falls into a coffin wrapped in an American flag. The coffin is nailed shut, and Thirty remains here for a brief period of time.

In Sexual Orientation Conversion Therapy for Gay Men and Lesbians: A Scientific Examination, Douglass C. Haldeman writes that those who take part in conversion therapy do not become heterosexual. Instead, the therapy results in them feeling “shamed, conflicted, and fearful about their homosexual feelings.”[4] In other words, these people begin to suppress their homosexual nature in order to conform. They fall into a type of “sleep.”

When Leto is knocked unconscious by the masked man, who represents the heteronormative standard, he enters this “sleep” phase. He is not un-queered upon his capture; he is simply ignoring his queerness. This parallels with those who leave conversion therapy and ignore their homosexuality. However, just as Leto does in the film, these people must all wake up at some point. This is the struggle and failure of the queer person to conform.

It is important to note that the violence depicted in Hurricane is not reminiscent of actual physical violence, but rather the possibility of it. In Imagined Violence/Queer Violence, Judith Halberstam explains that it is this threat of violence that is able to disrupt identity.[5] In the beginning of this paper, I stated that neither heteronormativity nor the queer person could penetrate each other. With reference to Hurricane, the fight sequences are not meant to be taken as literal. What they serve as, other than representations of queer struggle, are representations of queer identity, and its struggle, being able to disrupt the order of a heteronormative society with the mere threat of violence. That is why Thirty is fighting. Conversely, they also represent the heteronormative society being angered by this disruption. That is why the masked men are fighting. The question now is: why is the heteronormative society’s resolve so strong?

According to Lee Edelman’s No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive, anything that goes against the societal mandates of sexual reproduction threaten the logic of futurism.[6] This is why, about ten minutes into Hurricane, Thirty sees a group of small children coloring with chalk in an alleyway. The children notice him, and run away soon after. The very next scene shows Thirty in another one of the “sex” sequences, only this time, he is between the woman’s legs.

The queer person is seen as not being for children. Children represent the future, and therefore anything not in support of children is not in support of the future. Heteronormative society’s primary goal is futurity; therefore it combats anything that stands in the way of that goal. Its resolve will forever be unwavering.

However, we mustn’t forget that the queer, Thirty, wants to be a part of this society. Thus, he gets in between the legs of the approved object of desire, the woman, in order to promote the goals of the heteronormative society, or to at least show that he is not at odds with it. However, the scenes of bondage that were present before this particular scene return.

Thirty is unable to follow protocol and promote futurity (at least by heteronormative standards) because he is queer. Therefore, his sex can only be queer. This does not mean that his sex must be homosexual, but simply that it is not with the goal of reproduction. And as reproduction is not set forth by his sex, society still does not accept him, even as he has appeared to accept the approved object of desire.

The adoption of the masculine identity recurs here, which is why the sex scenes appear to get more violent, in accordance with heteronormative standards of male dominance. The woman from the park re-appears, still running from Thirty, but he catches her this time, and they kiss again. This is more male dominance. The reason that this one last effort to be accepted into heteronormative society ends in failure comes in the last fight sequence.

Here, Thirty finally defeats the masked man once and for all. This fight is different from the other ones because this time, there are no women present during or after. Thirty, or the queer, have not conformed to the standards of heteronormative society, however there is no more desire to do so from this point on. I view the conclusion of the film as a type of resolution for the queer person. It is here that they realize that they are different, and that because they are different, they can not conform. Therefore, they no longer attempt to.

As I stated earlier, it is completely impossible for heteronormativity to penetrate the queer, or for the queer to penetrate heteronormativity. The two are by their very natures out of sync. It is often the desire of many queer people to be accepted by hetero-society, however they are unable to do so because the only way for that goal to be achieved would be for them to conform. This conformity would mean the death of their queerness, which would mean that heteronormative society hadn’t actually accepted anything different. Hurricane depicts the struggle and inability of the queer person to conform to a heteronormative society that wants to change them.


[1] 4. Rhoads, Robert A. “Coming out in College: The Struggle for a Queer Identity.” Choice Reviews Online, 32, no. 08 (1995). Available Online at

[2] 2. Habarth, Janice M. Thinking Straight: Heteronormativity and Associated Outcomes Across Sexual Orientation. Michigan, 2008.


[3] 6. Clemons, Anthony. “Gay and Greek: The Deployment of Gender by Gay Men in Fraternity and Sorority Life.” Honor Projects, no. 413, 2015.


[4] 153. Haldeman, Douglas C. “Sexual Orientation Conversion Therapy for Gay Men and Lesbians: A Scientific Examination.” Homosexuality: Research Implications for Public Policy, 1991.


[5] 193. Halberstam, Judith. “Imagined Violence/Queer Violence: Representation, Rage, and Resistance.” Social Text, 1993.

[6] 13. Edelman, Lee. No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004.



  • Clemons, Anthony. “Gay and Greek: The Deployment of Gender by Gay Men in Fraternity and Sorority Life.” Honor Projects, no. 413, 2015: 6
  • Haldeman, Douglas. “Sexual Orientation Conversion Therapy for Gay Men and Lesbians: A Scientific Examination.” Homosexuality: Research Implications for Public Policy, 1991, 149-60. doi:10.4135/9781483325422.n10.
  • Habarth, Janice M. Thinking Straight: Heteronormativity and Associated Outcomes Across Sexual Orientation. Michigan, 2008, 2.
  • Halberstam, Judith. “Imagined Violence/Queer Violence: Representation, Rage, and Resistance.” Social Text, no. 37, 1993, 187. doi:10.2307/466268.
  • Edelman, Lee. No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004.
  • Rhoads, Robert A. Coming out in College: The Struggle for a Queer Identity. Westport, CT: Bergin & Garvey, 1994.




Di Me Que Me Amas

At work the other day, a woman asked where I was from. When I told her that I was from here, and inquired as to why she had asked that question, her reply was…

“You have those oriental eyes.”

If you don’t see the problem with her statement, hop on over to Google and read up, friend.

I’m tired of being fetishized. I am tired of being told that I look different than most black people, because it is a fact, that most black people, look different than most black people. Its called a phenotype, and unless your name is either Tia or Tamera Mowry, I think it’s safe to assume that your genetic presentation is pretty original to you.

So, sorry, Josh, Jake, John, Jennifer, Justin, Jimmy, or Jan, we don’t all look alike. (Lol that was a joke. Don’t be offended white people. I love you, but you have a lot of J names.)

I don’t take it as a compliment when I am told that I don’t look black, as a way of telling me that I am attractive. Because when you say to me, “I don’t usually like black guys, but you’re gorgeous,” what you’re actually saying is, “Normally, I think black guys are ugly, but you don’t look like them, so you’re attractive in spite of being black.”

Well, news flash; I do look like them, Bitch. And my blackness does not detract from my attractiveness, it enhances it. And fuck you, Jeff.

But honestly, my issue isn’t just with white people and their tendency to sniff out otherness like bloodhounds on the hunt for the newest falafel spot…

… white people, you love falafel far too much to have elected this president. Now retreat to your corner of the room and eat the Complicit Casserole.


BUT MY BLACK PEOPLE! You don’t get to skirt by untouched by this matter. No, because when Miss June feels comfortable enough to look me in the eye and say that I look oriental, there’s a problem. And I’ll give it to you here, because I’m sure there’s at least one person who neglected to actually look up the issue…

A PERSON CANNOT BE ORIENTAL. A rug can be oriental. Rice can be oriental. Hell, even a wig, made from the hair of a Chinese woman herself, can be oriental. HOWEVER, a person canNOT be oriental.

They are fucking ASIANS.

And I don’t look Asian. So stop it Aunt Jackie. I look just as black as you do, if not more so.

But, it doesn’t stop there. Since we are on the topic of Asians, who tend to be the largest portion of my dating pool, and only God knows why, I have a little story.

I was seeing this Chinese guy a little while back. He was awesome, and we had a great time together. He taught me how to say a few things in Chinese, which I forgot almost immediately after he taught me, but it was a fun time.

And he was really hot. Like if any of you have ever heard of Jackson Wang, I mean on that level type of hot, dude. It was actually frustrating because I knew that he was way out of my league.

wu (This is Jackson Wang)

We were definitely getting more serious, which was why no one knew we were dating. (I tend to not talk about the people that I can see myself getting serious with, due to a superstitious fear of ruining it.) But, things kind of came to a halt when he began to tell me about his parents.

The conversation went as follows…

Slightly Less Hot Version of Jackson Wang: “M’key (because he could never say my name the right way) would you ever go to, China with me?”

Me: “Totally! I mean I’ve always been kind of interested in China, but I kind of don’t want to be killed.”

Slightly Less Hot Version of Jackson Wang: “Killed…?”

Me: “Well, I’ve always read that the Chinese don’t like black people very much.”

Slightly Less Hot Version of Jackson Wang: “Ahhhh, I see. Yeah, I would love to take you home to my parents and see the reactions on their faces. I would be bringing home a guy, and the guy is black! They would die.”

I still don’t really know what he meant by this, but it kind of hurt my feelings a little bit. It isn’t why we stopped seeing each other though, we actually just both stopped having time, or stopped making time. I would be remiss to say that this didn’t add to my lack of desire to see him again, though.

It is my experience that black is seen as bad. However, it is also seen as desirable. Therefore, if someone is black, the non black attraction must find a way to justify its attraction to this black evil. White people often try to justify their attraction to me by saying that I don’t look like most black people.

On the other hand, black people seem to want me because they also see me as other. And I guess, in othering me, they believe that I help them obtain the ability to step off of this black bus that society has relegated them to.

I don’t. I’m right there on that bus with you Tyrone. I just have a window seat.

As far as Asians go, I guess they just want to use me to give their sweet old mothers heart attacks. I’m OK with that though, as long as they are always within the relative hotness of Jackson Wang.

I guess the only people who haven’t ever done me wrong are the Latinx. So ven aqui, Papi, y di me que me amas.

Total sidebar, but has anyone ever seen a pregnant Asian woman?

Also, Native Americans totally exist. I’ve just never had much interaction with them, seeing as they were almost killed out by the colonials…

You’re fucking up, White People.


That Way

With age comes wisdom. Wisdom of oneself, wisdom of the world, wisdom of how the body works and what it likes.

Sex. Im hinting at sex.

I’m newly 22 (and I will hold onto that “newly” part for as long as possible because 22 is fucking old as fuck and it’s depressing). For the most part, I’ve known what I like and don’t like for a while now. For example, I hate being hugged from behind. That same logic can be applied to sex with me. DON’T FUCKING GET BEHIND ME.

And that is as detailed as I will get about my sexual preferences. Make of it what you will.

Being a part of the LGBT community, sex is weird. It gets weirder when you toss in that I’m not gay. I actually don’t affiliate myself with any one sexuality, but that is another topic for another time. In any event, because of that, I do find myself in scenarios with women pretty regularly.

In fact, until recently, the only scenarios that I had ever been in were with women.

Again, I’m hinting at sex, people. Catch up.

Sex with men always seemed strange to me, so it never happened. I hadn’t ever met a guy who I was interested in going there with. Until this year. I met a guy for whom I felt a level of attraction that I had never before felt for another male. It was actually a little concerning how much I wanted him. And I wanted to explore things with him, but of course these things never work out in the real world. Not when all any gay man seems to care about is hooking up.

Is that the basis of the gay male relationship?


Are we so underdeveloped and repressed throughout our lives that when we come of age, the only thing we can think about is penetrating each other? (I lump myself with gay men because it makes things easier to explain.)

Seriously, though. What ever happened to waiting? Did no one else sit with their mothers as I did and watch Tracee Ellis Ross harp on about her 30 day rule? And if you don’t get that reference, I ask that you leave now.

I can not explain to you how many times I have met a guy, gone out with him and had an amazing time, only to find out that he just wants me to invade his body. I have lost out on so many great guys because I wasn’t ready to hop into bed with them on the first date. Hell I wasn’t ready to hop into bed with the biggest headache I’ve ever had in my LIFE, and I knew him for half a year.

I mean I was ready. I just wasn’t ready ready.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have hooked up before. I still do (only once with a guy). However, I don’t hook up with a person I like because ruins my perception of them.

I know myself. And I know my intentions. However, if I meet someone and have sex with them too early, then I begin to see them as nothing more than a hook up. Not because I lose respect for them or anything like that, but because it makes me think that the only thing that they were after was sex with me.

Thus, if I like someone, I ignore every urge I have, with an almost robotic precision, until I feel like I have developed a deep enough connection and level of trust that we can go there and I know that they won’t be done with me afterwards.

And as I write this, I realize that that stems from my insecurities. I fear rejection, and I have never had to deal with it. Because of this, I suppose I reject everyone else in kind. If I don’t have sex with them, they can’t leave me, because we weren’t ever together… if that was what I wanted.

And also because men need to learn how to slow the fuck down. Learn my favorite cartoon before you proposition me.

It’s Courage the Cowardly Dog. Remember that. It could come in handy for you one day.

But I digress… to me, it appears that the only thing gay men are after is sex. They base their entire lives around sex. Their relationships are based around sex. They have several different apps meant to find sex.

TO BE GAY IN AMERICA IS TO HAVE A STEADY DIET OF- I can’t finish that because my mother may be reading.

Honestly though, I have exactly zero gay friends, but I am acquainted with several gay men. Only one of them is in what I would consider a healthy relationship.

He packed up his life and moved up to New Jersey with his boyfriend, I would assume because he got stationed up there. I’m not really sure why else anyone would move to New Jersey. But I watch the snapchats of them with their dogs, cooking together, just laying around and watching TV, and smile because it’s a beautiful thing to see.

And I hope he doesn’t get mad at me for using his name, but dammit Lambertine, I’m fucking jealous of you.

I’m jealous of you because that is exactly what I want. I’m not hunting for a random hook up right now, I just want someone to watch TV with at the end of the day. Someone to go to the gym with that with yell at me when I skimp on my squats and lunges. Someone that I can try new recipes on, that will tell me that they’re the most amazing thing that they’ve ever tasted even if they aren’t. BUT THEY ALWAYS WILL BE BECAUSE I AM BOMB AF IN THE KITCHEN.

I want someone who will want to be with me just as much before we have sex, as they do while we’re having sex. Who will then get up after we have sex, put my hoodie on, and throw my textbook at me because I’ve been procrastinating on my homework.

I want someone who’s pupils are just as dilated when they see me fully clothed, as when they see me naked. I want someone who’s desires exceed the physical. Meet me at least halfway.

I don’t think that I will ever be able to find that in the gay community that I have come to know. I’m sure it is out there somewhere, I guess I’m just not looking in the right places.

Also, just gonna throw this out there, but I am starting a date tab. I am tired of buying dinner for guys who just wanna hook up with me. I’m done. A bitch is broke. So from now on, if after one date you try and get me to fuck you, I’m swiping your debit/credit card and closing your tab. The bouncer will then escort you to the nearest exit, so you can leave. I don’t have time. In the words of my cousin/best friend, “That way.”

Which way? That way.


(P.S. Im going to text you about this in a second, but this post in no way reflects my feelings about you. We’re SOOOOOOO good, even though I think I got you sick… -.-)