when i was learning to write i used to make my 8’s like infinity symbols.
I sunk to the ground, suddenly overcome by the wave of exhaustion I had been missing. I leaned against the chain link and felt hot, numb tears spilling endlessly down my face. I cried for what could have been hours, unable to muster the energy even to sob or accompany my weeping with emotions of sadness. I was so utterly drained. An empty being leaking onto the pavement. Tears were all that was left within me.
Obviously, our broad generational taboos against racism, sexism and homophobia have been for the better. But this desire not to offend has extended to other areas of life. When it is combined with warnings like, “What you say on Facebook will be read by the college admissions board,” the cultural pressure to be generic becomes a matter of financial survival. Sure, you need to be exciting, and yes, you are special, but you shouldn’t be so in a way that anybody could have a problem with.
if you don’t like dry wine i can’t even
observers invent models of science and reality tailored specifically to the limitations of their own unique abilities to function physically.
but i genuinely think it’s plausible that the widespread existential crises brought about by the internet could make my philosophy degree really fucking lucrative someday.