“Can I ask you an awkward question?” he asked me in his drunken stupor, via Snapchat messages. “I’m going to do it anyway. Have you done porn, and if so, where is it?”
Last night I woke up shivering and sweating. The tips of my fingers were numb. I began to panic and cry and did not understand what was going on. Is this still PTSD?
For the past 13 years of my life, I’ve had an emotional support animal even though she wasn’t ever registered. Her name was Lemon, she was a cockatiel, and she saved me from killing myself when I was a teenager.
ATTENTION: This is my 100th post on the Barefoot Aya! Wahoo!
An interview for a job I was perfectly qualified for that I thought I would enjoy came up and I had the answers to every single interview question but one:
Please see Late Night Rant #1 if interested. This is completely different. This post is in defiance of my mother and also proof that she never reads my blog – ever.
- Angry Facebook
- Talking about talking about politics
- New Years Resolution
Continue at your own risk.