C is for Cherry Ripe (sort of)

Of which I am currently craving

B is for Bitching

I'm irked. Insanely irked. It's beyond annoyance. It's beyond irritation. I don't know why I'm complaining. I feel like complaining, yet all I seem to do is complain.
I have the taste of honey mustard on my lips. Rather then being delightful and sweet, it's salty, and overbearing. It isn't what irks me. This just irritates me. Honey mustard should be sweet, subtle and leave a mild kickback in your mouth. This has unleashed an assault, and the casualty is my mouth.
What is irking me is the attraction I'm starting to garner in nicotine again. I will not give in to this. Not again.

Never ever again

A

To summarise one's self, I like cake. It is all I like, have liked and ever will like. This is a lie. The cake is a lie, I much prefer cupcakes. They're innocent. And pure.And wholesome. And just wonderful.

My name is Tik. I am not you, nor would I want to be. I don't want to be myself most days. I'm not an easy person to be. That said, I am an emotional mess, and will latch onto how someone is feeling to void myself of dealing with my own problems. You may not agree with this, but as I said, I am not you, which would recquire you not being me. This I sleep soundly knowing.

I live in a dream, and I haven't woke from it for little over three years. I do not deal well in reality, the one everyone is supposed to deal with, and would much rather plod along at the pace of a tortoise and create my own as I go. My dream is still restrained by society, my morals and my influences from others, but it is my dream, and I shall hold firmly onto it.

I am Tik. I like unicorns, glitter, rainbows and serial killers. I like to make things, and destroy them and I have tattoos. Take it or leave it.