I thought this was cool a year ago. I still think it’s cool.
My brother: do you love her? are you planning a life with her?
Me: ew no. feelings? what are those? I’m dead inside.
you put it in a box
or a book
or a day
and you just leave it there.
do you want to go back and get it? pick it up and roll it around in your hands?
but what if it misses you? what if it needs you?
no. leave it.
one day you’ll accidentally come across it and realize you’d forgotten that you’d put it there. it’ll look different. it’ll feel different when you push on it. you’ll show it to other people and they’ll say, ‘oh yeah. i remember that. it remember it being bigger.’ and you’ll say, ‘mhm. but i think we were just smaller.’
I just found this. And it happened to me.
Do you remember that? The pain?
I can’t recall anymore.
I’m listening to a mix of Ani DiFranco and my dad yelling at his cookbook. My family is so weird. I feel like if I keep listening to angry ladies, they’ll finally understand me.
I know you like Lil’ Wayne and whoever sings this other song about ‘my shorty’ and ‘my boo’ that I can hear CLEARLY, but I can only blast Baby, It’s Cold Outside so loud before it irritates Bill. I mean, if I can hear the lyrics of whatever you’re listening from one floor away, how loud is it for you? I’m not complaining, because I find it kind of funny, but if you have to pause it just to yell at the wife that you’re probably abusing, it’s a little loud. And heavens to fucking Betsy, it doesn’t need to be on repeat does it? NO ONE LIKES THIS FUCKING SONG! It’s terrible. Now I’m getting mad. It’s my fucking birthday. I should only be listening to Raise Your Glass, Teenage Dream and Erica singing Lisa, It’s Your Birthday today. I’m not asking you to move mountains. I just want you to shut up.
Thanks for your time and consideration.