THIS IS MY NEW FAVOURITE LINE
New Warby Parker glasses!!
If anyone actually knows how to be a real adult, give me some tips please because wtf
I feel like I romanticize being a difficult human a lot… like it’s this fun and adorable part of my life to be this wildly intolerable, but mostly it’s like carrying around a really heavy backpack.
When I was in middle school I used to walk to school everyday. I would keep all of my textbooks in my backpack because it was too stressful for me to go to my locker all the time. I hated the hallways full of brat kids. I felt smarter than them in a way that I could not begin to prove on paper. That frustrated me. I dragged all seven textbooks home even though it was too overwhelming for me to ever pull them out and do any homework. Instead, I would sit very still on my bed for hours eating microwave popcorn and trying to get everyone else’s energy out of my hair, out of my dumb sweater, out of my stupid nike socks. I had to completely unravel. I required hours of complete stillness, that’s a quality that I have yet to outgrow. (Not that I am some kind of pro at outgrowing qualities. Unwavering irrational behavior has always kind of been my thing) I kept the books in there, knowing that I would have to wake up and walk to school with them. Knowing I would be miserable. Knowing they would be too heavy because I was tiny and weak, maybe 70lbs tops. Knowing I would regret it and be mad at myself.
Yet I still did it, day in and day out. And that’s just what it is to be me. It’s the way I refuse to drive even though I know it makes my life harder. Or the way I’m too scared to do anything that will benefit me in the long run like school or avoiding alcohol or fighting custody. I am truly the queen of quick fixes and temporary relief. It’s not lost on me. I had an annoying day at work and I’ve been sitting here in bed basically since getting home. I don’t want to get dressed. I don’t want to go outside. Sometimes I think I have some sort of sensory disorder, but mostly I think that’s just more bullshit I feed myself to make me feel better about being me.
Make no mistake, there is nothing endearing about being this insufferable. I’ve been carrying that goddamn backpack for like 27 years. It’s starting to get fucking old. I’m starting to get really fucking old.
I relate to Kait more than anyone else ever.
Vickie just sent me this picture from a disposable camera at her birthday party. This is me with too much tequila in my body yelling at bobby because he doesn’t pamper me enough. 💁 (Spoiler: He does)
Don’t drunk online shop