Just a paperback writer

Or maybe I was meant to be a rich french housewife that writes stuff sometimes and knows how to dress

I was meant to be the victorian poet that lives in the woods in her small wooden cabin. Everyone thinks that she has lost her mind because she enjoys talking to animals and singing lullabies late at night. She may be a witch. Who knows? She may be the one who turns your mother into a bear. No one will know who she was and how she lived untill she dies. After centuries, some hunter will find her writings in that old haunted cabin that no one dares to enter and he will publish her works. They won't call her a witch anymore but what if she really was one?

اینا چرا دست از سر من برنمی‌دارن

یه مرد دیگه جوین شد😭😭😭😭

اقا روش بدون تکون خوردن نداری

نه کنسل

بعد بدو اینور اونور بشین پاشو اسکات برو😭

Not me trying