Aria Lockleys Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

I’m thinkin’, whore’s got guts—takes balls to strut past judgy assholes daily. Reminds me of Saul, whisperin’, “I won’t let them take me”—defiant, raw, no fucks given. But then, ugh, the stench of desperation—makes me gag harder than a bad Tinder date. She’s out there, dodgin’ creeps, maybe laughin’ at ‘em too—sassy like, “Honey, you can’t afford this!” Total queen move. I’d high-five her, but also, ew, wash my hands after.

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I love how even the alleyways have secrets, kinda like little whispers of past glories. There's this old building off Elm St that I call “The Muse” – a dive bar with graffiti art that got me feeling like a rebel, man. "You're a bad*ss" kinda vibe when the place lights up at night. I can't help but get a bit emotional when I revisit those memories – so raw, so intense.

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