You know the thing that sucks the most about living in modern times? It’s not the constant threat of climate change or the assholes who claim to run this shit show. It’s how aware we’re made of ourselves. This shit would be so much easier if I didn’t know I was bipolar and just thought I was possessed or had demons in my blood and I should do cocaine about it. It’d also be a hell of a lot more entertaining for you, dear pervert.
On one hand, it’s incredibly helpful to be aware of and be able to manage it. On the other… it’d be a lot easier to be able to just say “Ooops, sorry ’bout it. Head ghosts are acting like assholes again.” Instead, in order to maintain the guise of being a responsible adult, I have to make speeches like this every time the fat glob operating this flesh sack decides to have a bad day/week/month/year/existence and someone new has been brought into the fold. There’s a lot of new mother fuckers strolling around my little circle lately so…
I’m writing about this completely unslutty topic with the hope that anyone reading it can (kinda?) understand why I might disappear in spurts. Or be totally different one day to the next. I’m out here living in the same shitty existence as everyone else while trying to lasso my own brain into behaving with only good fucks, caffeine & pot. The ability to take myself out of the equation without taking myself out is necessary sometimes.
So hi, I’m fuckin’ (certified, all organic, free-range) crazy. To the surprise of absolutely no one with any life experience.
Lucky you for fucks, I’m just middle ground enough to write up some new entries AND start looking for someone fun to inspire even more. Also, the proof reader’s cock is a sonnet.