Nikki Freaking Malvar

I have sadly realised that I cannot commit to anything.

I cannot commit to weekly television because I am too busy eating. I cannot commit to pursuing my dreams because I am still too busy eating. I cannot commit to boys because the ones who like me are too nice, and the ones I have raging boners for are invariably emotionally unavailable. I cannot commit to blogging because I am lazy, so I think posting non-committal pictures of cats will be a good start.

This is me in a nutshell. But get me out of the freaking nutshell, it is salty.

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  1. My palms cupping a new book like a foreign breast. Fingers tenderly leafing through pages, sights engrossed in words that tumble with ease into others like old lovers. My favourite pasttime is a forgotten intimacy. Clutching too at my Darling’s wool cardigan, I am trying to inhale his residual scent. I will dream tonight of sneezing, and lips that say “God bless you” before burrowing into the nape of my neck.

    My palms cupping a new book like a foreign breast. Fingers tenderly leafing through pages, sights engrossed in words that tumble with ease into others like old lovers. My favourite pasttime is a forgotten intimacy. Clutching too at my Darling’s wool cardigan, I am trying to inhale his residual scent. I will dream tonight of sneezing, and lips that say “God bless you” before burrowing into the nape of my neck.