*Attempt writing in a state of mind that seems least congenial

I think that you and I both know it; it’s been a while.

I’m not remorseful at all. I’m a busy person. Each week greets me with chores and responsibilities; that never changes. If there is any change at all, it’s that a new item gets added to the never-ending parade of bullshit that is adulthood.

I recently saw a photo of myself, at around age four. I was covering my mouth with my hand, as if I’d been caught doing something that I wasn’t supposed to be doing. My long, wild blonde hair was pushed away from my face by an enormous pair of red swimming goggles. I was at a beach in Florida with my family and I remember sharing a grape-flavored Popsicle with my younger sister. The only way the day could have been better is if someone had given me a small pony to ride up and down the shore; me and Sparkles riding into the sunset.

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I could go to the beach now. I could get in my car, which I pay an exorbitant payment each month to own, and take off. I wouldn’t go too far at $3.99 a gallon, but I would find sand somewhere. I could bring a swimsuit, which I would begrudgingly fit over my aging, fleshy body. Take a bottle of SPF 50 to slather over myself, but what does it matter? I’ll probably die from some mysterious ailment that seemed to come out of nowhere.

                “She always made sure that the trash was taken out to the curb,” someone would say.

                 “She never left a dirty dish in the sink,” another would recall.

                This would be my legacy.

When I was younger, I always wanted to be older. If I was 12, I wanted to be 16. At 16, I wanted to be 21. Now that there’s nothing to look forward to, no more rites of passage, what’s the point? I used to be able to party and stay up all night. Now one beer gets me intoxicated because my diet only allows me 1,500 calories each day. I would consider it a cheap way to relax if I still didn’t have a headache in the morning.

Everyone wants something from you and when you need something, no one can be bothered.

Whatever happened to “Do unto others as they do unto you?”

Now it’s “Every man for himself.”

And why is it HIM?? I’m sick of the misogyny.

MailPERSON. FirePERSON. OttoPERSON.

Let’s start evening out the playing field. It’s the 21st century, goddamnit.

In all honesty, I couldn’t enjoy a day at the beach. I’d be too preoccupied with what I had to do when I got home or arrived to work the next day. Days of leisure would be squandered on me.

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