Super Witch. Murphy’s. Memphis.
This is where the mental hospital used to be. It makes me sad whenever I see it.
There was so much drama centered around her schedule and how apparently we didn’t care about her life.
The heat wave slowed business down considerably, so we gossiped about her ex-husband and discussed what I would wear to the Oscars®.
Whatever gets you through the night.
I would like to, just once, be able to walk into this place and not immediately get a headache.
I don’t want to be some sort of poster child for abused women of 1984, you know.
fuck my brain. fuck this place.
I think I’m losin’ my mind this time.