You’re sick of talking about yourself. You’re sick of sharing, of Snapchatting and liking and re-everything-ing. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re content with the overload of content. Maybe I’m crazy.
I’m definitely sick. I’m sick of recapping the mildly entertaining things that have happened to me. I’m sick of not creating things that are more entertaining than the things that have happened to me.
I am so fucking bored of myself — do you know that feeling? Like, you’re in a conversation and your brain is just salivating, chomping at the kibbles and bits of the etiquette you have left, just yapping at you to be a self-absorbed asshole: “quick, interject! Say something! You can relate! You did a thing like their thing, share it!”
And you’re just tired. Exhausted. Sick of yourself. Sick of hearing your own thoughts and sick of hearing your own voice — the…
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