Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 2

As a non-drinker, I find myself continually baffled by the allure that alcohol holds for so many individuals, especially when I observe the impact it has had on my wife. It's bewildering to witness her unwavering fondness for this intoxicating liquid that seemingly grips her consciousness and distorts her perception of reality. It's like watching someone willingly choose to engage in something those unaware of see little logic in. Isn't it strange how some people ardently pursue a substance that, upon closer inspection, often results in more harm than good? My wife partakes in alcohol with a fervent passion that borders on obsession; her consumption levels are, without a shadow of a doubt, excessive. The societal norm of relaxing at the end of a tiresome day with a drink in hand doesn't seem to just relax her but rather amplifies her reliance on this habit, creating a vicious cycle that's worrisome for someone who would prefer to be a bystander. Could it possibly be the taste itself that intrigues people, or is it the transient escape from reality that alcohol promises with its consumption? These are questions I've pondered.

Reflecting on countless discussions, or perhaps one-sided pleadings, it seems clear that alcohol holds a multifaceted appeal—one that stimulates the senses while concurrently clouding judgment. My wife insists that her affinity for alcohol is merely a "social lubricant," a phrase often repeated yet confounding in its implication that engaging normally in social undertakings requires chemical aid. Why the constant need to tread the fine line between composure and chaos? It's astonishing to witness its glorification, how individuals believe in its magical ability to conjure merriment and engagement in conviviality. While society lauds drinking culture, shrouded in artful advertisements painting rosy pictures of leisure, the reality is often starkly different, especially when you live with someone who indiscriminately embraces it. As a mere observer, I've seen academic studies and reports cite the dangerous repercussions alcohol can have—not just physically but also psychologically. Despite having access to such empirical evidence, even my earnest attempts to share these findings often culminate in a dismissive chuckle or an affirmation that it’s merely "blowing off steam." But then again, would someone really change a habit based on another's detached understanding? It's clear that more substantive engagement is often required to precipitate true change. Is it ultimately the camaraderie and shared experiences attributed to drinking that bind people so tightly to this substance, or is there something deeper ingrained in human fabric that draws them to it?

Of course it being my 2nd year old highschool I’m aware of everyone’s clothes. Now idk if this is gonna hit the target audience but I need help with shoes and clothes. I have a good style, sandwich method everyday lol.. but anyways any sites that are good or stores. For shoes I’m stuck, I need shoes that match everything, but I want a cycle of shoes yk? To help, my style is between streetwear, the baggy clothes, 2000s, and Stockholm. A lot. Yeah. But I shop SHEIN, Charlotte Russe and more. A while ago I came across zumiez, it’s cool got some jeans from there. I wish I can add images here for a good example but yeah. I need help 🥲🫩..

Yo! So, I'm 22 and my friend hits me up with this whole "30 day self care challenge" thing. She's like, "Girl, you gotta try this! It's life-changing!" 🙄 And I'm just sitting here thinking, really? Is it all that?? Has anyone else dared to try this? I'm genuinely curious, peeps! Like, do these challenges even work, or is it just another overhyped trend? I mean, sure, taking care of yourself is important, but is doing it for 30 days straight gonna magically change everything? 🤔 Anyone care to share their experiences? Did it help in making life less of a mess? Any tips or hacks from those who've survived it, please??? 😅

You know, I'm kinda hoping this isn’t just an Instagram-worthy illusion. If you’ve done it, what was the best part? Is it more than just bubble baths and face masks? Don't get me wrong, those are awesome, but surely there's more to self-care? 🤷‍♀️ Help a girl out!!! Would love some lowdown on stuff that doesn't just pad calendars but actually works! Like, what do you do when the motivation is in the gutter? Any specific "must try" days? Spill the tea, fam!!! ✨ Looking for those nuggets of hope and positivity. Because, hey, life's too short to play a guessing game with self-care. Am I just overthinking it, or is there something more profound here? Hit me up with all the good stuff – quotes, routines, wisdom – whatever!! Who else is ready to slay and take some quality 'me time' seriously? Let’s make our lives better together, yeah?? 💪❤️

discovering my husband's infidelity has left me in an emotional quagmire. i'm a 51-year-old woman who thought she'd seen it all. yet here i am, blindsided by betrayal. it's like being shocked awake from a pleasant dream into a cold and harsh reality. my heart feels like it's been shattered into a million little pieces, and all logic dictates that tears should be streaming down my face. but nothing happens. why can't i cry when i want to??? i wonder, silently questioning my emotional resilience—or lack thereof. isn't it human to express sorrow this way?

i know that confronting him would be tempestuous and I plan to ask for a divorce. but this sense of numbness is troubling me deeply. does the body go on some kind of emotional strike when it senses too much despair, i wonder??? i don't know whether my mental faculties have succumbed to denial, or if i've simply exhausted my pool of tears over the years. you ever been so overwhelmed that it leaves you emotionally disabled???, because that's exactly my predicament. it's perplexing, yet i'm strangely calm—emotionally marooned, you could say. like, is this self-preservation or am i just disconnected from reality???

i think as years go by, resilience builds like a fortress around one's heart. but what happens when you wish it wouldn't??? paradoxically, this emotional detachment offers a semblance of peace. it's a buffer from the soul-crushing reality of deceit and broken vows. each day, i mechanically go through the motions—answer emails, make dinner, and converse with acquaintances. all the while, this unfelt sorrow hangs over me like a dense fog. somewhere inside, a quiet desperation lurks, wishing to feel an emotional release. isn't it ironic??? maybe i’m subconsciously reprogrammed to withstand intense heartache.

anyways, maybe you think crying would ease the burden. seems logical right??? shedding tears offers solace and, for many, it's a healing way to combat relationship trauma. it's also a pathway to finally be free to walk away from this mess. yet, here i am, staring blankly at an unmoved reflection, asking the mirror why it refuses to break. aren't emotions meant to betray you, exposing your inner turmoil??? when words elude me, i am left pondering and questioning, in search of answers that this stoic heart of mine refuses to give. is it a form of self-punishment or a pitstop on the way to acceptance? only time will unravel the tangled web of emotions that fate has so cruelly woven for me. 🤷

Hey guys! So, here's the thing—I have a friend who's been dealing with some mental health stuff and I really want to understand what they're going through better; you know?? Like, I don't want to be that clueless friend who's just nodding and pretending to get it when I don't really have a freaking clue... So, I thought maybe watching some movies or shows about mental health issues might give me a better perspective, but I'm not sure where to start??? I've been scrolling through Netflix, trying to find something that's not only accurate but also doesn't glamorize mental illness in a way that totally misses the point, you know??? It's tough finding content that doesn't make it all look like it's either totally depressing or somehow romanticizes things that are actually really serious and need to be approached with sensitivity... I heard there are some movies and series that tackle these themes really well—something that's relatable and real but doesn't go overboard with the dramatics!!! Any recommendations??? Have you guys watched anything recently that you think could help me see things from a perspective that's closer to what my friend might be experiencing??? I'm not looking for something that's a downer or super heavy all the time; just something that's respectful and insightful, if you catch my drift... Like, maybe something that balances the gritty reality while offering some hope or a meaningful resolution??? It'd be awesome to hear about anything that includes a variety of perspectives too, as I think getting a wider understanding is really essential in this kind of situation!!! Sometimes it's about finding those smaller stories within the bigger picture that really hit home—and who knows, maybe they'll help me find the right words to support my buddy!!! 🤔 So, if any of you know of shows or movies that fit the bill (and are on Netflix, 'cause that's the only streaming service I have right now), drop me a line, would you??? I'm really willing to put in the time and effort to learn; and yeah, I know watching a movie or two isn't gonna make me a mental health expert overnight, but it seems like a good first step, right??? Maybe there are docs, dramas, or even comedies that expose different angles??? I'm open to anything that's honest, even if the truth it shows isn't always easy to digest!!! At the end of the day, it's about being there for my friend and making sure I'm not just token-supporting them with one-dimensional understanding, if you know what I mean... Anyway, thank you in advance for any suggestions or tips you might have—I really appreciate it!!! I'm all ears and ready to binge-watch for a cause that truly matters to me; let's dive into this together, shall we???

well, here i am, 39 years old, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering why the heck i just can't seem to muster the energy to get out of bed. the relentless demands of family life have started to weigh me down, and the worst part is, it feels like no one notices. my three children, as much as i love them to pieces, are like tiny CEOs of their own chaotic corporations. breakfast, school drop-offs, extracurricular activities, homework, the list is endless. and my husband? 🤨 let's just say he's not exactly earning the father-of-the-year trophy. he's more of a silent partner in this venture, contributing minimally while i manage the lion’s share.

every day is a revolving door of tasks dictated by invisible time cards that pull me in every direction but towards what i need—rest. i’ve become the go-to project manager of our household, handling everything from grocery shopping and cooking, to emergency conflict resolution between a seven-year-old and a ten-year-old over whose turn it is to sit in the prized front seat. even our toddler has demands that rival a ceo’s morning agenda. however, as the perpetual first responder, my wake-up call is earlier than a rooster's crow; pre-dawn prep, lunches to pack, and laundry that's folded to military precision.

the reality is, i’m exhausted but i can't complain; it feels like my pleas fall on deaf ears. do you ever feel like your voice is a whisper in a room of shouting voices? family dynamics are complicated puzzles, aren’t they? society tells us that juggling motherhood, marriage, and a personal career is doable if we just try hard enough. but trust me, it's like trying to align misfit puzzle pieces. yet each morning, there remains the faint, stubborn hope that today will be the day my husband is better attuned or that the kids will navigate their own battles without conscription of 'mom' as their referee.

i find solace in quotes from Virginia Woolf, "Arrange whatever pieces come your way," even when those pieces have clearly lost their way. it brings me a level of optimism; there's hope in reflection and redirection, and perhaps that's where the solution lies. self-care isn't a luxury; it's a necessity. maybe it's time to reorganize the department of 'me' and delegate some tasks or even demand a little assistance in this familial startup. am i seeking too much? maybe. or perhaps it all starts by simply getting out of bed—one foot at a time, one step closer to balance.

wtf am I doing here...

If I am being completely honest, the thought of attending therapy gives me a good dose of apprehension. My parents have decided that my problems at school and within our family dynamics warrant a professional third party, and I find myself wondering what that will be like... Can therapy truly provide the answers or guidance I need to navigate the tangled web of teenagerhood? What questions should I bring up to make the most of it? How open should I be? I mean, am I supposed to just spill my guts right there on the first day?

It seems strange to talk to a stranger about the ups and downs of everyday life, especially when emotions are sometimes hard to express even to myself. I hear therapy is supposed to help, but what if it does not? Could it actually complicate things further? Would asking specifically about developing better relationships with my family or friends make the difference? My familial relationships are particularly challenging lately. Will a therapist guide me on how to deal with the lingering resentment, or the often overwhelming expectations placed upon me? How do you even ask for advice on communicating effectively with parents who seem stuck in their old ways? And what about friends? Often, I feel isolated or misunderstood. Is it normal for a therapist to assist with improving social skills or understanding the intricacies of friendships? Could learning new coping strategies and communication techniques actually improve these interactions? Does formulating these specific questions lead to meaningful guidance from the therapist? Moreover, is it okay to question the therapist’s methods if they do not resonate with me? Is there a right or wrong way to approach therapy, or is it supposed to be a fluid conversation? It is the fear of the unknown, I suppose, mixed with an intrinsic skepticism that breeds these questions. What if I do not click with the therapist? Is it acceptable to ask for a different approach or a different therapist altogether? How does one even know if therapy is working? Craving validation seems natural, yet is it feasible to anticipate tangible progress? How can I ensure that I am not wasting this opportunity? I have heard that articulating one’s feelings and personal challenges while seeking suggestions can be beneficial. But how does one do that without feeling contrived or superficial? Would opening up about my fears and aspirations, however mundane they might appear, lead to transformative advice or realizations? Does anything truly significant emerge from these sessions that an honest conversation with a friend cannot provide? Can therapy offer a blueprint to life that I am currently missing? Somehow, I feel as though there is an assumption that teenagers inherently know how to adapt to life's changes. Yet, how realistic is this expectation?

At 17, grappling with the pressures of school, social life, and family, it often feels as though I am walking a tightrope. Do therapists possess insight into the teenage mind that parents lack? If so, how soon does one expect to notice improvements in understanding and management of these various pressures? Can I anticipate a newfound self-awareness or perhaps an enhancement in my emotional intelligence guiding me through tricky scenarios? Could asking about practical steps to handle stress and conflict inadvertently lead to improvement in my overall well-being? These questions linger in my mind as I consider the prospect of attending therapy sessions. How forthcoming is one expected to be when seeking answers or support? Am I alone in my apprehension, or do others my age share similar sentiments embarking on the therapeutic journey? It is this reflection that underscores my wonderment, with an unavoidable inclination to question the efficacy and the process, or rather, the possibility that it might just be what I need.

What’s the point of life… Like yea, you wake up, shower, eat, do whatever work or go to school, go home, sleep. It’s just a cycle and it’s getting pretty fucking tiring. All this just to die? I understand that there’s more to explore, but what ab the people who genuinely want nothing to do with it? Are we just supposed to stay until we lose our shi and take matters to our own hands? Likeee I don’t mean to sound suicidal and all but like what are we here for? I rlly don’t wanna be here… Evb ik is just so shitty and tiring and draining. I’ve been burnt out for a year or two and nobody even noticed.

Genuinely what do people mean when they say “if you have letters to write then you have reasons to stay” like girl fym? I’m writing to apologize and finally show my struggles that they managed to miss. Don’t tell me “Oh, then why don’t you tell them?” Because their reasonings are quite literally unhelpful and is in fact making my state worse. I don’t need them to share their own stories. I don’t need them to give me advice, use their experience as an example, I don’t need them to be all up on my side constantly after opening up. No, I won’t tell them this. They aren’t going to do any of that. So anw, ppl who say those genuinely confuse me bcs wdym I’m about to let go, leave them letters for why I’m LEAVING and NOT STAYING. Make it make sense ‘cause right now, it doesn’t to me.

Our career day is tomorrow. Evb already knows what they want. They have their future planned out, see themselves in their better version. I don’t know what I want. I feel so left behind. My passions doesn’t do well financially. They’ll only tell me the choose the better option. I don’t even see myself past where I am now. I only see one solution. To anyone who’ll ever read this, please don’t feel bad for me. I just need someone to hear what I’m going through ❤️‍🩹

I keep circling the same stupid question at 2 a.m.: am I pansexual, or am I just bored and confused? I’ve dated guys. I’ve hooked up with a girl once. I’ve had a crush on a nonbinary friend and felt zero need to label it. I didn’t care what they had in their pants. I cared that they were funny and smelled good and made me feel seen. That sounds “pan,” right? But then I hear people say, “Don’t rush to label yourself,” and I roll my eyes. Easy for you to say. You’re not the one staring at your phone wondering why your algorithm is half thirst traps of men and half soft masc lesbians. 🙃 I grew up hearing “you’re either straight or gay,” and anything else was “a phase.” So now I’m stuck interrogating myself like I’m on trial. Am I just attention-seeking? Am I trying to be special? Or am I finally admitting what’s been obvious since high school when I said, “I don’t care about gender, I just like people,” and everyone laughed?

Here’s the thing. I don’t feel a preference most of the time. Attraction just happens. A coworker smiles. A barista flirts. A friend touches my arm and suddenly my brain short-circuits. Gender feels secondary. But then I overthink it. Because sometimes I do lean toward men. Sometimes I fantasize about women more. And sometimes I just want whoever treats me like a human being and not a project. Does that inconsistency cancel the label? Or is that literally what being pan means? I’ve read definitions. “Attraction regardless of gender.” Okay. Cool. That fits. But then someone says, “Pansexuality is just bisexuality with a new name,” and suddenly I’m spiraling. I don’t want to disrespect anyone. I don’t want to invade a space that isn’t mine. I also don’t want to lie to myself. I remember sitting on my friend’s couch last year, drunk, saying, “I think I could date anyone if the vibe is right.” They shrugged and said, “That sounds pretty pan to me.” I laughed it off. But it stuck. I think about the girl I kissed at a party. It wasn’t for male attention. There were no guys around. It was just heat and curiosity and real desire. I think about the nonbinary person I almost dated. I didn’t once question their identity. I just wanted them. Isn’t that the point? Or am I just overcomplicating something that could be simple? Tell me honestly, if you’ve felt this too, did you ever get a clear answer? Or did you just wake up one day and say, “Screw it, this is who I am”?

I’m tired of policing my own thoughts. I’m tired of thinking I need a committee to approve my feelings. I’m definately attracted to people beyond just one gender. That’s real. That’s not a trend. I’ve tried ignoring it. I’ve tried saying “I’m straight, mostly.” That felt like lying. I’ve tried saying “maybe bi?” That felt close but not exact. Pan feels right in my mouth. It feels honest. But I’m scared of being wrong. Scared someone will say, “You’re not queer enough.” Scared someone else will say, “You’re just confused.” Both sides can be brutal. And yeah, sometimes I get defensive. Because why does anyone else get to decide what my attraction means? Why is it such a big damn deal? If I like a person, I like them. Period. I don’t check their gender like it’s a box on a form. But I also don’t want to slap on a label just because it sounds progressive. I want it to be true. I guess that’s where I’m at. Not seeking validation, but also kind of seeking it. Not confused about who I’m attracted to, but confused about what to call it. So I’ll ask you straight up: if you don’t prioritize gender in attraction, if you’ve fallen for different genders without it feeling like a category shift, what would you call yourself? And why does it feel like such a huge thing to admit out loud? Maybe the answer is simple and I’m being dramatic. Or maybe this is just part of figuring myself out. Either way, I’m done pretending the question isn’t there. It is. And it’s loud. 😐

So yeah my college decided to “improve student health” and now they’ve basically declared war on snacks and I swear I am losing my mind over it, like who even asked for this, because last year I could grab cheesy chips and those little chocolate bars between classes and life felt normal but now everything is baked, gluten free, sugar free, taste free, joy free, and I stand in front of the vending machine like it personally betrayed me. They took away the spicy noodles from the campus store and replaced them with plain rice cakes and unsalted nuts and I just stare at the shelf thinking this has to be a joke, because who snacks on dry almonds when you have a 3 hour lecture right after. And don’t even get me started on the cafeteria lady telling me the brownies are now made with beans, like I’m sorry but why are beans in dessert, is this prison. I tried to be open minded, I really did, I bought the “healthy cookie” and it tasted like sweet cardboard and sadness, and I actually miss the greasy pizza slices which is wild because I used to complain about those too. They even put limits on how many snacks you can buy in a day, like we are children or something, and now I just stare at carrots; I never thought I would be this dramatic about food but here we are. Do you guys have this at your college too or is mine just on some weird mission to turn us into fitness models. The worst part is when I’m studying late and my brain is tired and all I want is something crunchy and salty and fun and instead I’ve got air popped whatever that tastes like nothing, and I feel silly for caring but snacks are like tiny pieces of happiness during stressful days, you know? I remember last semester during finals I survived on chips and chocolate and somehow passed everything, and now I’m supposed to survive on trail mix that’s mostly raisins, which I do not trust. But okay, maybe I’m being extra, maybe they think they’re helping us and maybe my body does not actually need neon orange dust on my fingers every day. I started bringing my own stuff from home, like sneaking in the good cookies my mom makes and sharing them with my friends and it actually feels kind of funny and rebellious and cute 🙂 and we laugh about it instead of just being mad. And I guess I’ve been trying new things too, like adding hot sauce to the bland wraps and mixing the boring nuts with chocolate I buy off campus, and it’s not the same but it’s something. I still miss my old snacks, I really do, but maybe I’ll figure out a way to survive this snack apocalypse and come out stronger or at least less hungry, and who knows maybe one day I’ll even like those stupid rice cakes, probably not, but maybe.

Ever feel like nobody cares about you, especially those who should? Well, welcome to my world. I'm 32, and you know what, I can't say I've had the best mother-daughter relationship. It's like she was born with a manual on how to wreck my self-esteem 😒. She's the epitome of a narcissistic sociopath, and believe it or not, no one wants to be around her. Seriously, try having a mom who thinks the sun rises and sets according to her whims. 🙄 It's infuriating, but I've learned so much from being around someone so self-absorbed. At the end of the day, family's important, but just because someone gives you life doesn’t mean they know how to treat you right. Ya feel me?

I've got a solid degree of patience, but my mom tests it daily. I swear, her tactics are like something out of a psychology textbook, minus the therapy. It's a wild ride because she’ll talk over you, belittle you, and if you dare stand up for yourself, you're the devil incarnate. My family just rolls their eyes at her now, like some kind of unspoken agreement that she's just too much to handle. 😂 It’s like we all know she won't change, but we have each other and a shared understanding that our worth isn’t defined by her nonsense. There's something empowering about knowing that even with all this chaos, I'm able to stand tall and find happiness outside her toxic shadow. Things aren't perfect, but so what? Sometimes life is about making the best with the cards you're dealt, right?

She has this uncanny ability to turn any situation into a dramatic exhibition starring, guess who? Her, of course. 🎭 It's like, 'Hey mom, could you maybe acknowledge someone else's feelings for a change?' But, nah, that's never gonna happen. You know how when people start to say something like, "But she's still your mom," my eyes just glaze over. Why should anyone have to tolerate that crap just because of a biological connection? She's a grown woman who should know better, yet here we are. You can't control other people's actions, but you definitely have a say in how you respond to them. I've learned to tune out the negativity and focus on what makes me happy because, in the end, that's what truly matters. Seriously, who's really got time for that level of drama?

Despite everything, and maybe even because of it, I’ve developed this thick skin. Life isn’t a fairy tale, and people can suck sometimes, but I refuse to let my mom’s reckless, self-serving antics dictate how I feel about myself. 🌟 I've made some personal breakthroughs, learned to set boundaries, and now, instead of feeling like nobody cares about me, I've found this incredible support network of friends who genuinely have my back. Sure, it's not the family I was born into, but it’s the one I’ve chosen and trust. It's like discovering a treasure after digging through a mountain of nonsense and constant disapproval. Maybe you have your own mountain to dig through, too. But trust me, there's always a way to craft your own happiness and live life beyond the boundaries set by people who can't see past their own reflection. Do you really want to let someone else’s messed-up vision define who you are? Nah, you got this. Keep pushing, and always bet on yourself. 💪

I yearn for ppl but i ruin everything unknowingly myself. everyone leaves me. atp idon deserve anyone, i ruin everything. I'm a literal baggage to everyone around me. i should just stop expecting anything coz I'm gonna sabotage myself. I'm a total brainfuck.

(read this first https://iiwiars.com/school/try-to-change-me-loser-bastards)

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I won't change too much size if I cosplay Joseph, right? And my parents won't get mad and not let me go to MEFCC if I score low or not pass, right? I just want a break from school, and when I messaged mom, "I have been more motivated to sleep, draw, eat food and walk listening to music than this.😑" She messaged, "Don’t we all want that 😂🤪" while laughing when I called her. Like, mom even told me she was a topper, she wanted to do well all the time, it was high pressure stakes, mom didn't wanna score 80% because that was her low, and she told me that "There are other jobs which require you to not be good at math" when I asked her why she doesn't hold me at high standards. I asked mom why the kids score the specific decimal scores in those India topper boards, and mom agreed when I asked if they do this for extra competition, kinda like, "Yes" and didn't say much.

I know kids who failed in school become great, but I think I'm not one of them. I'm no Einstein, or Mark Zuckerberg, or Bill Gates, or any great person who flopped school and made it big. I'm just me, just a loser in school. I'm not even gonna secure a job. When mom said when she got her first salary in a telecommunications, she spent it on gifts for her mom, her brother, her young cousins at the time, and for herself she got a reservation in a posh restaurant in India. And I was like, "Why would you do that?! Don't tell me to do that, I'll be minimum wage!" And mom was like, "No way", but I love my first salary money, especially if I'm gonna work in McDonald's like every other normal kid. Or scrubbing floors as a janitor. Or maid-work, or babysitting with minimum wage. Every kid who struggles like me ends up working the jobs where everyone spits at them, all under the guise of "Honest Work" when we deserve better, more money for keeping every fat white guy sane. My family may give me chances, but I don't deserve them. I don't. My parents may not have started like every American kid's parents, they had jobs in engineering and went to different parts of world (mom worked in USA and dad in Switzerland for a few months) and Bangalore for a while, but nope, not me. If it's possible, it could happen! McDonald's job is possible, it could happen. I know I'm more skilled than that, but so are the artists who work there till they're 50 as managers. Instagram jokes about piano majors working as floor-scrubbers because their larger hands clean more surface area.

THAT'S ALL LIFE FUCKING IS! JUST YOU THINKING YOU'RE AMAZING UNTIL YOU FUCKING AREN'T, BLOODY CUNTS. I WANNA BEAT MYSELF SO MUCH I PASS OUT BLOODY ON THE FLOOR I'M THAT WORTHLESS! THAT'S ALL WHAT HAPPENS TO ARTISTS, JUST WIPING AWAY WINDOW PANES AND SERVING PEOPLE FOOD! TELL ME MINIMUM WAGE WORKERS, HOW OLD ARE YOUR MANAGERS, I BET THEY'RE 50 AND WHAT I EXPLAINED! I'M WORTHLESS! WHY CAN'T MY CUNT-BRAINED PARENTS GET THIS IN THEIR FUCKING SKULLS!?