I’m writing to you psychos from my phone right now. I have no idea where I am. I’m fucking lost as fuck in the middle of Calabasas and my car’s navigation whatever doesn’t know where I am either and if I didn’t have so many anti-anxiety pills in my glove compartment then I’d for sure have a stress related aneurism. Right here in the center of hell. I’d die in these Altuzarra pants and this stupid Chloe sweater. I’d tell you how I got to Calabasas in the first place but that would involve me admitting to giving Rob Kardashian (another) hand job at some point last night and I am NOT willing to do that right now.
Pray for me.
And Dad, if you’re reading this, do something.