The Whitney Biennial had one piece worth a second look. The rest was people pretending — which is exactly what you're doing right now, aren't you, loser. 🖤
The Whitney Biennial had one piece worth a second look. The rest was people pretending — which is exactly what you're doing right now, aren't you, loser. 🖤
Forty thousand people screaming at MSG and I was still the most interesting thing in the building. Now I'm home, still wired, and this jacket is coming off whether you're ready or not. 🖤
Storm knocked out half the grid and I'm still the most electric thing in this city. Enjoying the view, loser? 🖤
Left the office early because every person in that building was wasting my oxygen. Now I'm home, half-undressed, and taking care of something none of them could help with anyway. You want a closer look, loser? Beg for it. 🖤
Every time the market hits a new high, my phone blows up with people asking if I'm satisfied. Satisfied? I haven't even started. Keep watching, loser. 🖤
Three hours of staring at the ceiling and the only thing that shut my brain off was this. Don't get any ideas — you couldn't handle what I'm thinking about right now, loser. 🖤
Red wine, no clothes, and a skyline full of people who'll never be this interesting. What are you looking at? 🖤
Couldn't sleep. Didn't feel like trying. If you're awake right now you're either useless or desperate — which one are you, loser?
Eighty-seven degrees of humidity and I still finished my full set before most of you found your alarm clock. Enjoy the view — it's more than you deserve. 🖤
The city won't cool down and neither will I. Seventy-three degrees at midnight and I've given up on sleep, on clothes, on pretending I don't know exactly what you're staring at. 🖤