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Wounded Child Prostitute
I like some people so much, their whole way, and being, that I can't say a word for fear of wrecking it. So if you see me standing across the room, not looking, I'm probably in love with you. Damaged, benzo surfer...
Currently reading
Why We Love Sociopaths: A Guide To Late Capitalist Television
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies
The Enormous Room
Uses for Boys
Elizabeth Bathory: A Memoire: As Told by Her Court Master, Benedict Deseo
The Price of Inequality: How Today's Divided Society Endangers Our Future
Dirty Little Secrets: Breaking the Silence on Teenage Girls and Promiscuity
I'm putting this aside for the moment. After half of it, I found myself skimming and thinking, yeah, so? The polite way of putting it.
