Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.

Well this was some fucking week for Bwog.

Bwog got anxious:

  • had four rounds of nervous poops in the hour before my EMT exam.
  • went to my boyfriend’s religious college for a hot sec and my anxiety levels got fucked up for the next few days.

Bwog did work:

  • studied… studied how to cry efficiently. 
  • wrote poetry as part of a final project.
  • made a video game as a final project.
  • gl reading 5his shit I’m very fucming drunk rn lolllllfuck my grades fucm mental health fuck everyrhingggggg
  • made collages at Mudd to scare the engineers.

Bwog made discoveries: 

  • received medical results on a bus, subsequently had to divulge personal information to my fellow passengers.
  • put a teaspoon of chocolate milk in normal milk and thought I had come up with something revolutionary but it’s just milk.
  • am officially dating a guy. Wack because I thought I was gay.

Bwog kept it together?:

  • kept it together surprisingly well
  • fucked up.
  • oh boy I really fucked up.
  • had a rough fucking weekend.
  • decided to end my relationship with someone. Failed. 

Bwog got hurt:

  • got body-checked by a turnstyle.
  • cried in someone else’s bed.
  • really wanted to cry but failed.
  • got sad because of my ex for the millionth time.

my Saturday night via my iPhone