The problem was this word “anti-venom.” It sounded made up, like it was from a comic book.
“I’m sorry, but we just don’t have anti-venom, 180 more words
There’s a certain kind of tiredness that doesn’t go away easily.
The kind that creates purple, bruise-like circles under a blank stare. The kind that steals your motivation and drive for the things you love the most. 44 more words
The kind of month where good things are happening, but you wouldn’t call them great.
Where you realise it’s nearing an entire year since you’ve graduated from something incredible, and had no opportunity to harness the time that has flown past accordingly. 445 more words
Wobbly blabber fat smacked bog fed sepia taint wooze, motherfucker, motherfucker, motherfucker…is it me? Like they gave me a slap on the hand—didn’t do that well or that either, it wasn’t want they wanted, it wasn’t exactly what they wanted, so they tossed me. 369 more words