I'm too much of a control freak. Whenever I stay over my boyfriend's house, he knows to wash the bedsheets right before bed because his ex accustomed the dog to sleep on the bed and the hair drives me insane.
When applying chapstick, I always start with my bottom lip.
I have to have an odd number of applications on the bottom lip, and the even number one less than the number on the bottom.
Ugh, as much as I love chapstick, it's like, the more you use it, the more your lips rely on it. It's a vicious af cycle and idk how I feel about that :/
When applying chapstick, I always start with my bottom lip.
I have to have an odd number of applications on the bottom lip, and the even number one less than the number on the bottom.
I love writing horror stories for some reason. Everyone's being festive for Christmas and I'm over here writing stories of darkness and death and cannibals and all sorts of stuff.
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Delicious shit.
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Currently working on a story where a group of people start dying in odd but not unnatural circumstances in an abandoned house. It starts through dreams but the group of people will meet and go into the abandoned house.
I went and bought some candles yesterday.
My room smells hella nice.
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I bought a packet of coffee and vanilla candles for the girl I'm with and instead of using them, she stored them in her closet as a souvenir. I'm puzzled.
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Now I want a coffee scented candle.
I'm kinda puzzled myself? Like what is she trying to remember by keeping.... candles?