Big words BUT; Still anon, mate. Still anon. Absolutely pathetic. Fucking coward.
I wish that when your Mum (who I hope is dead, but for the sake of this fantasy), makes your little Nutella sandwhiches for your big day of year 7, I could just smear a little bit of my poo on the bread. Not enough for you to even notice, but you’ll still be eating my poo. That’d make everyday just a little bit better for me.