Tuesday, 3 October 2017

My Pet Rock Came To Life, It Is Still Living, But I'll Bash It To Pieces Before Next Thanksgiving

I used to ask myself what more could people want from me, what more could they need, which would adequately explain my unpopularity? But it seems the question is how much less could they want, there's nothing I can do, it's my very existence that's the affront.

Piling on more of myself in larger, kinder doses, is the opposite of what they want, it's an incorrect diagnosis. The real problem here is just with who I am. The one thing I can't change. Can't pull apart. Can't reprogramme.

1 comment:

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