It’s such a mindfuck to think about the fact that for a quarter of every month through no fault of my own I become an angry, wailing, nihilistic little bitch because my fucking hormones are playing pinball off the walls of my skull and jerking me around like an angsty little voodoo doll.
Not to mention that on any given day my anxiety is pretty steadily at a 7 all the time and then as soon as those elevator doors from The Shining open up, all of a sudden it’s like I go from a 7 out of 10 to like a fucking constant 12 and I’m at that point in my own little horror movie where something terrible is about to happen to the main character and everybody knows but them.
Ya feel me, ladies?
I’m sitting here trying to do all my final projects (which suddenly feel like literal life-or-death issues) and simultaneously TRYING NOT TO CRY ABOUT BRIAN GRIFFIN DYING ON FAMILY GUY. I DON’T EVEN WATCH FAMILY GUY. I DON’T CARE THAT THEY KILLED BRIAN OFF, BUT INEXFUCKINGSPLICABLY I’M TRYING NOT TO CRY ABOUT IT. It’s like invasion of the menstrual bodysnatchers up in here and I don’t know why it had to happen during finals week but it did.
And that is why, this week and this week only, I wish I had a dick. (I mean, other than for the purpose of cumming on somebody’s face cause that would be tight.)