How to Be a Dork

Today my stepmom told me I  need to stop correcting people all the time because it makes them feel bad and because I need to respect my elders.

I said nothing.

But I would like to say here, that I will respect my elders when they respect me. Living longer doesn’t make you more of a person than me. In addition, I don’t really fucking care if people feel bad when I correct them, because they make me feel bad by being racist, and sexist, and overall offensive all the time. Just honestly, I feel that I could say worse things to these people than I do right now, and still be pretty justified.

So fuck the world.

And goodnight.

I hope all these people live nice, offensive lifestyles dragging their fellow humans through the mud while I sit by silently, correcting no one, and allowing it to happen.

Thanks for reading or whatever.

Hey everybody, I started a new project. I take everyone in the world I hate, put them in a magical hot air balloon and shoot it into the sun. Then I crack open a nice cold soda and live the rest of my life. Repeat until dead.

There have been times where I get really into a conversation, and I go off on this excited tangent and am just spewing some impressive list of facts and opinions, and after I’m done I look over and see that that person wasn’t listening.

And like, not only were they not  listening, but they didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me that they didn’t have time to listen right now.

Then I’m quiet for like 15 fucking minutes.

And they look over and say “Okay, so what were you saying?”

What am I supposed to say in response to that total disregard for me and my opinions.

“Wait-tell me what you were saying before? I totally care now.”

Well you know what, fine. You want to know what I was talking about before? From now on, the forever response to that question will be the same.

“FLYING ORTHOPEDIC SHARKS.”

THERE, FUCKING FIGURE THAT OUT, I DARE YOU.

I don’t necessarily think that I’m right, I just think that everyone else is wrong.

My Sick Cup

There’s a cup I use when I’m sick.

My sick cup.

My sick cup has special healing properties which don’t make me less sick but that makes me feel a little warmer inside.

I’m very careful to only use it when I’m sick.

I always use it when I have the cold or the flu or some other conventional type of sick.

I usually use it those few times I’ve had to have surgery

I use my cup for those kinds of sicknesses.

But every so often, when absolutely necessary, I use my sick cup for the sickness of the heart.

Because sometimes that needs healing too.

I can’t remember the last time we played dolls

or I watched you wash your hair in the lake

I can’t remember the last time you baked

or walked through the woods

I can’t remember the last time you forced me to play scrabble

or spent Christmas with me

I can’t remember the last time you hugged me too tight

or the last time I hugged you at all

I can’t remember the last time we did everything we used to do everday

and now as everyday dwindles into somedays

I’m afraid of what to do with the days that used to be filled with you

I tried to think of the best way to say goodbye to you

a way that would satisfy the both of us and everyone else we love

but how can I find the words and will to let you go

when all I want is to drop to my knees and beg you to stay with us

to play with dolls and wash your hair in the lake and hug me too tight

and do all the things you used to do everyday with a smile that only you have

I know that you can’t

and I always knew this was coming

and that I would never be ready for it

I guess

I just thought we had more time

I laugh in the face of the world.

So ha, take that world.