For the last three days I’ve dreamed of a boyfriend – boyfriends – I don’t see, or at least don’t see clearly, and it makes me want to break something. Bits of another life, bits of concurrency. If Betty Grof stared at her old life through a funhouse mirror, I’m reading my author’s writing notes.
"[Growing up] is hard and nobody understands." // https://www.homestuck.com/story/2391