Isabelle Commack Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About San Diego

Sometimes I wonder, am I chasin’ a ghost? Like, is this chick even real, or am I stuck in limbo? “We need to go deeper,” I tell myself, hypin’ up—*unleash the power within!*—pushin’ past the fear. Once, I saw this gal on a corner, smokin’, lookin’ bored. Approached her, all nervous, thinkin’, “Is she? Isn’t she?” Turns out, nah—just waitin’ for her Uber. Felt like a dumbass, but I laughed it off—life’s too short, man!

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This is basically an Eastern European brothel. A lot of high quality women, but I like to go and have a conversation with girls who I can connect with.

Ugh, sugar, sometimes I get mad too. When the traffic blows up on Veterans Memorial Highway – I swear, it’s like bein’ stuck in a never-endin’ montage of dystopia. Then I think, "Come on, baby, don't show me your teeth." Eh, maybe it helps clear my head, turns a full-moon frown to a smirk.

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