mental ch-illness
it’s disconcerting when you can’t get the person making your coffee to smile even a little bit. am i being poisoned?
if someone else had made these eggs, i would throw them on the ground and yell “this tastes like bat shit on top of pig vomit!”. but alas, i was the one who made them, and if i did that, i’d just be the one cleaning up the bat shit pig vomit. better to just eat it.
and why is it always the days i sleep late that i get sent time-sensitive invitations to hop on a plane and come quick to the cote d’azur? answer me that, science!
and it’s raining on my lonely garden.
