cv totally eats the phone’s dick

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still hot and dry, occasional humidity making everything feel thicc and stanky. the air’s heavy, the nights don’t cool down, and my stomach is wrecked so i’m living on plain rice and wawa 📦 

cv called, this time about some missing shipment of props. i work there when they need me, but sometimes i’m swimming in texts. i’m rarely on some glamorous set with girls in velvet tho. usually clients pick their shit, set and forget. in cv i finally get my stuff shown how i like. buttttt in reality, i’m actually at my kitchen table with bits of twine and glue stuck to my hands and it won’t come off. 

strangers be asking me if i still check my ex’s social media. no. just thinking about him makes my stomach turn and then i feel pukey. trauma is boring but that doesn’t make it go away. 

somebunny i know is tangled up with a newly married ex of theirs. it’s making me crazy but i just bead, fuck it. 

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