She’s addicted. She’s dependent. And there is no way of getting around it. So she’ll feel happy and lovely for the evening. Until his hand is pulled from hers. The addiction kicks in. The dependence locks on. And she is lonely again.
All I have left are muffin crumbs (RIP Rocky and Peachy), forgotten chargers, a smelly living room (not as bad as last weekend), and no cookies
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