Bitchfaces. Yep. I’m late. I know. I could give you an excuse, but what’s the point? Y’all know my fucking character by now. No sense in acting like we don’t know it’s just who I am.
I’ve been having some disturbing communications reach me lately, and it’s got me feeling some type of way. No, not that type of way. This type of way. If you don’t understand boundaries, I’m not the one you want to learn them from.
Believe me when I say that, because on God, I really do mean that.
I’ve been keeping a relatively low profile for the last several months, as I felt it was necessary with some of the situations I kept poking at with sticks. However, please. Seriously, don’t misconstrue.
I’m still that mean. Really. That mean. I will legit turn any venue into a fucking riot if I have to. Sometimes if I don’t.
That being said, don’t send me crazy shit. I know that in your head, I’m some type of Antihero. Here in real life, I will meet you at my front door with something rackable teetering on these fucking stilettos. It ain’t ESP, fool, it’s fucking cameras, and I might slide a moat in this bitch this week, too.
I’m highly dramatic, so don’t doubt it.
If you don’t understand that I’m a real person, not some Polly Pocket instabestie in your weird little fantasies, you will make me clarify shit. I’m cool with that. All the way down to my soul, I really am. Please, be cool. I’m over the fucking weird shit, man.
-Q