Eliza Central Point Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

*spills tea, flails* Oi, me brew! Anyway, whore’s a laugh too, innit? Call me mate Dave a “whore” for nickin’ me chips, and he’s all, “Oi, sod off!” *giggles, snorts* It’s versatile, see? Slang’s me jam—whore’s like a multitool, fixes any sentence! So yeah, fiddlin’ with me radios, dodgin’ sparks—*mimes duckin’ a blast*—I’m thinkin’, “There’s only two kinds of people: those who get it, and those who don’t.” Whore’s the first lot, mate—wild, messy, real. Cheers to that! *toasts with imaginary pint, spills it* Oh bugger!

Chapters in this book

You're being called an attention whore by someone who more than likely has some issues of their own, either anger, or jealousy, or perhaps something else.

I work as a women’s counselor, so I see beauty everywhere. I overhear sob stories, but also epic wins. I talk with locals near 2nd Ave. near our tiny community center. Folks here are raw, real, and sometimes super angst-y. On rainy days, I wander near Crystal Lake; it's pretty, but not all is perfect, ya get me? I mean, rain can kinda suck, but makes you appreciate sunshine.

One student taken to the hospital after bus slides off Central Point road