I have no idea what you are, or what you're used for. You're on my phone, and so far all I've managed to do is embarrass myself by drunk-snapchatting (god, so many new ways to embarrass yourself these days) a boy (yeah, boy from the creepy nurse-stabbing-me-with-a-needle dream) a picture of a moving car on a highway (no, I wasn't driving, obvi).
Thanks for trying to educate me on what snapchat is for. Even though I know better now, I will still assume it's to send you pictures of my socks, keyboard, and dirty hair.
Thanks for backing me up that I'm not the only one who doesn't understand snapchat.
Dear people who told me working out in the morning would give me energy:
I'm confused. Are we supposed to get healthy for ourselves, or for our ex-boyfriend so he'll notice and feel immense guilt? Pinterest is really throwing me off on this.
Sorry I'm not sorry. This is my quiet rebellion against the quadricube.
Today we played pattycake.
Aaaaaand I'm off to dream of cheese-covered bacon. Happy Friday!