Gabrielle #42 – BIANCA CENSORI
Tfw you are meat.
When he talks to me I feel naked. The pavement is rough under my bare feet as I push through the throngs of Aesop girls and city boys, texting back. The pink flesh of my hips brushes against their synthetic clothing. They can't stand me. I’m like a blood stain on the cheap and soulless furniture of their lives. The heat comes off my body in waves and ri…
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