Aurora Bee Ridge Find A Prostitute ❤️

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I’m pissed, too—why’s it gotta be so sketchy? Find a prostitute, sure, but then what? You’re dodgin’ cops, creepers, and—who knows?—maybe she’s got a gang waitin’ to jack your wallet. “Witness me!” she yells, and I’m like, “Witness what? My bank account dyin’?” It’s nuts! But then, okay, I’m kinda thrilled—danger’s the spice, right? Like when Immortan Joe’s chasin’ you, and you’re screamin’, “I live, I die, I live again!”—that rush, man, it’s sick.

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Oh, and the Bee-Ridge River! Tiny, winding, but deep in emotion. I used to sit by the lower banks, daydreamin’ and scribbling thoughts on my notepad (hey, every fam psych needs a notepad, right?), watching kids and old folks interacting. L-o-l, sometimes the river makes me feel like I'm in a flick scene! "I am certain that I'll matter!" kinda vibes, right? (Err, when I get all existential).

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