Dear Roberta Sparrow, I have reached the end of your book and there are so many things that I need to ask you. Sometimes I’m afraid of what you might tell me. Sometimes I’m afraid that you’ll tell me that this is not a work of fiction. I can only hope that the answers will come to me in my sleep. I hope that when the world comes to an end, I can breathe a sigh of relief, because there will be so much to look forward to.
gf: come over
me: cant im a dinosaur and i died 65 million yrs ago
gf: im off my period
what do you call it when batman skips church?
did you just