Being home for more than a weekend reminds me why I hate being home.
Fucking hell!
It does not move me, it does not get me going at all!
It does not ship me, it's not the kind of thing that I like!
PS: I really like my boyfriend. He's fantastic times a bortillion!
Edit: OK. My boyfriend. Here are his stats:
His name is Mason, he's 24, nice and tall,
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