Humble enough to know I can be replaced, but wise enough to know ain’t nobody else like me.

My age no longer permits me to suffer for love, so if you see me sad, it’s due to lack of money.

“You smell so good!” Okay, so kiss me.

People who talk about fruit having too much sugar scare me so bad. Please get back, you wicked witch!

You want me to do Pilates? The thing that killed Jesus?

If you ever need me, I’m always just a couple missed calls and text messages away.

No longer chasing dreams. If they want me, they know where I nap.

Don’t talk to me about regrets if you’ve never had someone’s name tattooed on you.

Those eyes ain’t gonna roll itself, let me help you.

Unfollowers, take me with you!

Tariff this, tariff that. When is somebody gonna tariff my clothes and kiss me?

I deserve a percentage of your pay if you ever stole any swag from me.

The sexual tension between me and disappearing without an explanation.

They should invent someone who holds me.

No, babe, I love your prefrontal cortex. The fully developed ones scare me.

Rock bottom should give me free sandwich and coffee for how often I hit it.

All these microplastics in me could at least do some repair work to my knees and back while they’re in there.

Not all angels are in heaven, me for example, I’m at work.

I didn’t ghost you, I saved you from me.

You can reach me by butterfly.

I will always be hotter than everyone who hates me.

They’re making me do work at work.

Therapy isn’t enough, she needs to know people congratulated me when we broke up.

I don’t need coffee, misanthropy fuels me.

Why a bug would spend such a long fraction of its short life immobile on my ceiling beats me.

I hope you can hear me thinking about you.

Why can’t my career pursue me instead?

Hearing my voice in recording makes me wanna apologize to every person I talked to.

Imagine hating on me and I’m just in my room also hating on me.