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About Murcia

So, picture this—I’m scrollin’ X, seein’ thirsty posts. Reminds me of *Ida*, that flick I adore. “What’s past is past,” nun says—ha! Not in sex-dating, luv. Peeps ghost, then slide back in DMs like nothin’ happened. Drives me mad! Had this one bloke—met on Bumble, all charm. Two dates, then poof—gone. Resurfaced months later, “Hey, u up?” Mate, I’m Loki, not your booty call! Tossed my phone, fumin’.

Newsletter

And I must drop a few my own quirks: I talk to the wind here, sometimes, baring my soul to it. It listens. Sometimes I record my thoughts on worn-out napkins (yeah, my personal journal on the run, reallyy messy, defenitely inspiring, troo!). Sometimes I even get a little too spooked by the silence in the night – like, boom, remind me of a haunting line, “we shall never surrender our fire,” showing that even in dark times our hope is undying.

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