Me? I just want to live.
Now, I know, talking about yourself, well, it wears people down faster than a dick in the shower pointed at the hottest neighbor I've ever seen with a mole straight there on her cheek just like it's the sign of all girls that really start my fire, but sometimes you can't help it. Those moments you're spinning your wheels in front of the kitchen sink, a dirty dish in both hands, the same songs you've heard on Spotify radio rolling over and over themselves again and again, and you're just making sure you've got the right socks on, or your Walkman is fully battery loaded. It's those moments that what should be filling your head but rumination upon rumination. And you can't help but get to a computer and make sure you get it all down. I mean, it's better than the alternative, walking to the Millenial market for another loaf of bread because you're too lazy to cook a pan of frozen potstickers, not to mention the two hundred dollar pieces of wafu beef slowly rotting in the fridge.