Ross. 24. A voluntary solitary in this railroad town. Mired in memories, sick of being sick, and haunted by the absence of the being I hold most dear. I read a lot, write almost as much, and work at a stage theatre. Here, I've laid these out: take a look.
when people give me compliments I feel like a vending machine trying to accept a wrinkly dollar and it’s just really frustrating for everyone involved
The soothing balm of summer rain… as it floods my theatre.
My first unf! I’m flattered.
I took this last week during a show at work and I didn’t take it to post, more just because I thought I looked really sexy and wanted to remember having been sexy but now I figure I should probably prove to the internet that sometimes Ross does okay dressing himself.