A hundred times in the last two weeks I’ve told Cap I don’t know how to be a person any more.
Luckily he still knows how to be a dog.
I do think I’d rather be that. Or a bird. Or a whale. Or an anything that isn’t plagued with the this that and everything of personhood these days. Just fill my bowl or let me scavenge and fly. I’m so… exhausted with the rest of it.
I don’t give a flying fuck about the weird power plays of rich ladies who have nothing better to do than live vicariously through their teenagers. I would like to set fire to the homes of the ceos of the companies that inexplicably get to decide how much having electricity costs. I think it should be societally acceptable to fling shit at the men who ruin women’s lives because they refuse to have an honest conversation with their father or a therapist. I think it’s bullshit that having an illness that literally killed millions not that long ago and behaving like that’s the illness I have means I might not make rent this month.
Every single thing is stupid. Literally how the fuck is the leader of the country a diaper donning reality tv star who has bankrupted every single thing he has touched for the majority of his life? How the fuck is that real?
Why are people not raging in a much more French way about things yet?
I mean… I ask this as I sit in a place where I am not being particularly French myself, and I know the why.
We are all stuck in this bullshit hamster wheel.
And we thought human ingenuity was such a lovely thing.
But what have we done… really
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