💌 for a letter my muse would write to yours.
I’m not quite sure why you insisted on sending me a letter when you could have just texted me, but now I feel bad, so I’m sending one back.
To get the questions out of the way, how’s your Disney villain boyfriend? Is his hair still as white and stiff as the peaks of the snowy mountains of hell, or the Washington monument, or his dick? On second thought, don’t answer that last one. I really don’t want to know, okay?
Second, I should probably update you. No, Olivia doesn’t have any more babies (yet), Rowan isn’t dead, Dylan is still chasing Grayson, THERE ARE TOO MANY BABIES, everyone is still smoking weed, and all the teachers are too busy fucking each other/the students to notice everyone smoking weed.
Ugh, I miss you. Everyone else is living inside a soap opera, and I miss having someone to laugh at them with. I don’t know when you’re going to be back, but you’d better be back soon, dick.
A self deprecating burrito who misses you VERY MUCH