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Then, more importantly: what it meant, in a way she had to say out loud.
She couldn’t stop herself. There was no way to hold it back.
It was just there and it was obvious and it needed to be out.
“Oh my god,” she said. “You wanted to be a writer.”
Tweets,March 27, 2022
Watchingthefootie
@tuesdaygirl
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ME NOW, BITCHES
THAT WASNT JUST A HAND TOUCH
THAT WAS A BUTT GROPE
StickingYourBootIn@ontheterraces
Replying to @tuesdaygirl
lmao pride and prejuduce 2: electric buttaloo
SwiftieForLife@mattygorgeous
Replying to @tuesdaygirl
vindication.gif
OarsCores@annannann
Replying to @tuesdaygirl
… … … … … …
… … … …
god I wish he’d grope my butt like that
Watchingthefootie@tuesdaygirl
Maybe if you grow one he will
OBVIOUSLY HES INTO THE BIG GALS
ThirteenWhile You Were Sleeping on Independence Day
She tried several times to say something to him about the things he’d said in the car. But the problem with doing any of that was: oh god, she just really did not want to. Even though it was important, even though she needed to know stuff about it to the very depths of her soul, even though her fucking livelihood depended on it…
She couldn’t think of anything worse than asking.
Or even hearing what he had to say.
Because what if she saidDo you really think I look like that, and he laughed and took it all back? Hell, what if she saidDo you really think I look like that,and hedidn’tlaugh and take it all back? What if he just looked at her with those dark eyes of his and saidYep, I meant every word, you are a painting of a wild stretch of moors?
She would die. She was already dying.
