Elizabeth Crouch End Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

Lemme paint you a pic—imagine this chick I knew, let’s call her Jodie. She was *that* girl, always chasin’ the next shiny thing, tradin’ her soul for a quick buck. Made me so mad, y’all! I’d be like, “Jodie, why you whorin’ out your dreams for some loser’s dime?” She’d just laugh, flip her hair, and say she’s “livin’ her truth.” Girl, no! You’re livin’ a lie wrapped in cheap mascara! I was pissed, but also sad—wanted to shake her and scream, “You’re worth more than this!” Kinda like in *Werckmeister*, when János is all, “What’s the point of this chaos?”—I felt that, hardcore.

Blog Archive

Crouch slow walking. Moving only small movements. Being aggressive (I'm not very good at fair gunfights). These fights tend to be on choke.

Man, what a day! Seriously, Crouch End, you’ve got me all twisted up. I woke up thinking it’d be just another chill day, ya know? Grabbed my guitar, of course. Can’t go anywhere without it.

Harringay (Greater London) weather