Elizabeth Toeroekbalint Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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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.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I’m soaked. My notes are ruined. I’m standing there, looking like a drowned rat. I laugh, though. What else can you do? I mean, it’s Toeroekbalint, right? The weather’s as unpredictable as my love life.