After deleting the robots, I have 33 followers. Eh, more than Jesus started with.

Even my inner dialogue is in Tweet form now.

I got the Twitter because I was thinking that I don't get over-looked enough in real life.

My mane goal is a beard.

Depression is like a... ah screw it, I'll just mess it up anyways.

I have no idea how I tricked you guys into liking me.

Babies make me afraid of sex.

...cause wearing jeans with embroidered dragons is easier than than explaining to people individually that I'm not sure what year it is.

I'm drinking of you today.

Is it too late to become a princess?

Whenever I get retweeted, I call my dad and tell him about it and then I tell him that I'm a winner.

I hate racism as much as black people love watermelon.

Every room I step in becomes a panic room.

I loathe being so damn approachable.

I'm like communism: I look good on paper, but put me into action and I'm really fucked up. A whirlwind of fuckery really.

I've shit my pants a surprising number of times for an "adult."

Smokers are a dying breed.

Sick of groveling for the internet's approval. Joking, like me. I don't care; no, I do. Please like me. I don't give a shit but I kinda do.

It would have been a lot better if Hitler was only a grammar Nazi.

The inventor of ecstasy is probz rolling in his grave.