Sometimes it feels like there’s this cosmic joke and the punchline is my life.
Its like there’s someone handing out weed brownies and every time its my turn to get one, they run out. EVERY DAMN TIME…
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3 comments
Well, you know what they say. If life skimps you on the weedies, make better ones yourself.
Then make your own damn weed brownies and sell them for 10$ a piece
Literally after I had the worst break up the next person I tried to date ended up being just a taller version of my ex, he even lived on a street named Gattis which is the last name of my ex, so I feel you.