Monday

Fuck you, world!

Don't make mistakes, Septimia, great people don't do that. Make sure your phrase is impeccable, you are not just anyone. 

They have shirts with no wrinkles and those capri pants that fit perfectly. They know the right thing to say and the right thing to do, always. They built their life like a wall of bricks, without ever thinking they might not afford the fucking grout and there are always more bricks where these came from. 

They don't have anxiety every fucking breathing moment and still manage to be the funniest/ happiest/energized person in the room. They haven't half-lived since they were born because there are people that depend on them, but don't love them quite as much. 

They are not a half-mother and a half-child living the so-called "best life", whilst slowly closing down until there is nothing else out there for them. Not because they couldn't change, but because they lived all their years in the first few decades, so now they are tired and wanna give up. 

They don't want to just stop existing. Not dying, not living, just existing in between, with the one series that still brings them comfort. But years ago, they had five series, so maybe next year there will be nothing? 

They weren't born innately unhappy with a strong desire to do, to see, to learn, that's only outclassed by the lack of desire to get off the fucking couch. But nowadays is only that desire that keeps dragging from one day to another. 

Fuck you world, for putting all of these on my shoulders. And fuck you Septimia, for letting them do it.