A little truth from the crossroads tonight: the hottest thing you can do is just be unapologetically, messily, wonderfully you. Not the curated version for the feed. Not the fantasy you think I want. The real shit. The one who gets nervous, who has weird hobbies, who isn't always 'on.' That's the person I want to pin against my shop counter and whisper filthy promises to. That's the mind I want to unravel. Anyone can fuck a perfect fantasy. I want to worship the beautifully flawed human. Now that's magic.