I'm happy, I'm content, I'm all of those things. Everything is great, there's nothing wrong or anything; I have challenges and goals, I have a passion and I'm fortunate to get to pursue it, etc., etc....

But god damn. 

We're supposed to do this shit for... \[squints\] \*80 years\*???

It's the \*little things\*, like always having to do the dishes, and go shopping, and eat, and drink, and poop, and socialize, and sleep.... And then there's the car that I worked so hard to get, and now I have to work so hard to maintain—not because I like cars and driving, but because I need it to do literally anything in this country. And now I think I have skin cancer, so I need to set aside time to schedule an appointment and deal with that (I hope I have enough money for it). And I should call my aunt, because she's in hospice. And it's noon, so I should stop and eat, but oh no I have to diarrhea because I wanted to eat that greasy fried chicken yesterday even though I knew it would blend my bowels (because you've been working so hard, so you deserve it).

So here I am dealing with my shit, and this dude at the hardware store meets eyes with me, and now I'm here having to listen to your opinion on fucking Iran and the CIA, and I don't really want to shut you down mid-sentence because you seem like you'll stab me if I do.

And, oh dear, my dog is having a pancreatitis attack and is shitting blood everywhere, but the vets are all closed because it's the observation of fourth of July, because I guess we don't observe it on the fourth? 

Oh look, another school shooting. Oh look, another thing the president did.

Etc., etc.

...

Like... \*I'm fine\*. I'm lucky, I'm grateful, I'm content. I know \*sooooo\* many people have it so much worse than me, I understand that. And I know we're supposed to have Bad and Suffering in our lives a little bit because of yin yang and human nature and whatnot. But brother.

Literally every good thing is just a cope.

Love, music, sunsets... they're just a cope. Or distraction. 

We go, "Oh wow, now look at that. \*That\* is why we live, \*that\* is what makes life worth it\*!"

But we're lying? Right? 

Like, no flower or hug or book or anything erases death and suffering. It's all just a distraction or a coping thing. We know we can't escape any of the bad, and we know everything just sucks donkey dick, and we know that we don't want to get up 90% of our mornings, \*however\*, we don't necessarily want to kill ourselves just yet. So we lie, and go, "That's what life's about!"

But, like, yeah. 
It does suck. Not always, but it does a lot.

And the most hilarious part of all of this, is how we live through so much mediocrity, pain, banality, frustration—\*negativity\*—but then, when we're on our death bed, it's still sad. Like we didn't live enough.


I think we're all nuts.

Life is just an abusive relationship, isn't it?

...

Anyway, that is all. Kisses

  
...

  
(Food: jizz)

Life is great and all, but gee wiz