I am not embarking upon a well over thousand word essay on tumblr. I feel that would bore my followers ultimately.
Grade Eight.
You mean (if you’re a girl), it fucks you up in the head.
If they know it is sex and nothing more, then in my experience, everyone comes out fine.
Why is it disgusting?
A ticket to space.
GO!!!
Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 by Franz Liszt.
No problem! You post in quality, not quantity. Much better than these post whoring thirteen-year-olds that populate the majority of tumblr.
Samantha Urry.
Purple.
Depends in what context it is used at the time.
I’d say… Um, Mother dearest. You did say you were only going to have FOUR children…
I’d feel very special, if they meant it.
Cotton Candy. Although over here we call it Candy-Floss.
Drawing and listening to music, or chatting.
I’m in training. Why would I have an agent?
Though I am on Actor’s Equity.
Performing.
Riding home on my bike from being with my friends in the late evening.
These questions seem to be mostly about regret and pride and that. Why so?
I’ve committed arson once. Technically by accident, though.
Any time I am on stage is a glorious moment for me.
And not until this Friday, I’m afraid. I’ve got my final assessment on Friday, so after then I can mess about and shite as much as I want, so I’ll try and record a monologue after then.
You did so well last Tuesday.
