I wish I could just wake up and go to work and be fine with that, but every single day, without fail, I dread it so much I feel literal pain in my chest. I feel like that’s abnormal. And I also feel like I can’t do anything about it.
So I made a fake myYearbook account just to stalk all the people on there. And oh my God, this is the best website ever.
Though I can’t seem to amount to anything in the present day, in 1850, apparently I was the bitch to beat.
My political compass. Summary: socially liberal as fuck, economically moderate/uninterested.
Reading Oscar Wilde’s “The Soul of Man under Socialism.” HOW THE HELL DID I NOT KNOW THIS EXISTED BEFORE?!
So my computer keeps signing me into other people’s social networking accounts. So anyone who has used my computer ever EVER is now accidentally getting hacked.
I feel like I should use this to my advantage. Too bad my friends are boring.
(I still love you guys.)
This Valentine’s Day I received:
- 1 gigantic card
- 1 gigantic teddy bear
- 3 orgasms
- 1 fullbody massage
- 3 Luigi’s ice cups
- 1 free dinner complete with chips and salsa appetizer
- 848923849 reminders that my life is amazing
Not bad. Not bad at all.
It’s weird looking back at some of the people I used to be friends with in high school.
They really didn’t care about me at all. As in, at all.
I didn’t find my real friends until my last year.
Sometimes I’d give anything to go back and do it over again. I would have given significantly less fucks for the first three years.