Whenever I’m too full, (I’m the worst with portion control) I imagine a party in my stomach.
I’ll use anything at hand to shade me from the sharp sting of the sun in my eyes.
Don’t you hate it when you get the smallest speck of dust between your eye and contact? How is it possible to feel like the pain of thousand daggers and the fiery burn of a dragon’s breath in your eyes? Only those that wear contacts will know this pain.
mr. deadfish by Amy Ng 