I’m a writer, I like to think that if I tell myself something enough times, it’ll be true. It isn’t even really a lie, I’m writing this aren’t I?
You’re nodding slowly, I can see it and I’m matching it, frantically, nod for nod, but it doesn’t work. It’s frightening how no matter how much reality clearly indicates something, your brain picks its own interpretation and sticks to it, stubbornly like someone dating a pornstar, but completely convinced that she meant it when she said that their first time was the best they ever heard.
I’m being vulgar, I know and I apologize, for some inexplicable reason my mind descended into oblivion again and tea isn’t doing its job. It’s not imposter syndrome, I’m not rich enough for that yet- no, it feels as if I’m looking at the world through the bottom of a bottle of cheap bear I don’t remember having. It’s a kaleidoscope of alcohol-infused dreams and realities except without borders so that it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.
In true philosopher fashion, (I like to think that anyone with a slice madness and some tea counts as one), I have to take advantage of this inexplicable fugue state to question everything in life, starting with the most important ones , do we really hate pineapples on pizza or is it all just hype? (think abourrit !think!).
Second, only slightly more important question, what is it about heartbreaks that makes exes seem so much better than they were when you were dating them? Is it nostalgia? Like when you haven’t had chapo in a million and one years and suddenly, you start remembering the taste of that one chapo you had during a funkie in form one and start to drool?
Even more important question, what in the bloody hell is with this veneer of drip and that us twenty first century madmen (Gen –z) have picked up?! Supreme here, Louis Vuitton there, Gucci boxers and then lunch of two chapos (chapos are still divine, no issue with them) and as many minji as add up to your age.
I’ve seen people get laid because they were funny, because they had a deep voice I’ve even seen someone get laid cause they smelled like a particular species of Chinese cabbage but for the life of me I’ve never seen someone get laid cause of a fresh new pair of Air force ones !
Since we have opened the machine gun, we might as well spray both sides! Ladies why in the name of saints peter, James john, Andrew! (Did I forget someone? no? ok let’s continue).
Would you slather so much make up on your face that if the ghost of Christmas past suddenly appeared next to you it would pee itself in fear, and it sees Satan daily! (I think?) This used to be a problem that could be solved with swimming (John the Baptist copyright method ™) But the chemicals have evolved, and now we can only despair!
And once again the tea has started to work its magic, this is usually the point where I apologize to all of you, but let’s save that because you won’t believe I mean it anyway and if I’m being honest did I lie?
I will apologize to the pornstar though, work is work and love is love, but it always better to name your profession like Luo would right? (Educator on Mature adult matters – a concept.)
~a directionless rant