My life and explosive diarrhea
I haven’t blogged properly (let me just clarify that “properly” doesn’t necessarily mean “read-worthy”) in a very long time. A chunk of people have asked me to blog again and I’m going to try. For serious. Well, not really. But I’ll try.
You know when people say “I’m dead inside” but they’re really not and they just say it because it makes them look cool? It’s kind of the same thing when people claim they’re literally crazy and think it’s cute — when it’s not. Not ever. Have you seen a real crazy person? WOW LOOK AT ME BEING DIFFICULT AND BLOG WITH UNDERTONES OF ANGST AND SASS. Whoop. This ought to reel in potential followers! Keep going, self.
I’m dead inside. I’m not saying this to sound cool (because I’m uncool beyond repair), but because I am. I don’t feel anything anymore. Reasons would be because I haven’t interacted with a tangible living being. Not even animals! Some cockroaches, but I immediately introduce those to something else. They don’t get along as often. Surprisingly, cockroaches are socially-awkward when it comes to introductions with my slippers or Baygon.
STOP DERAILING FROM YOUR POINT JESUS CHRIST HAS WASHBOARD ABS.
I need to get out of the house. I have been stuck here for a very long time and it hasn’t done my well-being any good. Aside from coming up with more interesting topics for arguments with myself, there’s nothing else. I have nothing special to do, I have nothing to feel for. I have no purpose. And that’s frustrating!
Do you know how lazy I am? I hold my pee in because I don’t feel like walking when the bathroom is - get this - 3 steps away from me.
“COME ON! WHAT? REALLY?!”
So being home alone, not worrying about anything but choosing the least miserable future for myself, should be a dream. Shouldn’t it? It’s not. Surprised? Hang on to your vaginas because there are a lot more surprises coming your way.
I need something to do. I am planning to go back to school! But there were some things that came up. So right now, there’s nothing. I’m skeptical about working because I haven’t worked a single day in my life and have lived a very comfortable life thus far. And the idea of marrying someone rich who’s on the verge of dying, which was a very funny joke before and was an interesting topic of conversation, has now turned out to be the most appealing plan I have ever come up with.
I’m miserable and my purposeless life is turning out to be the greatest tragedy the universe can come up with. Right next to explosive diarrhea.