"Pick your poison, dear." This is a phrase I had stuck in my head upon waking up this morning. A bit alarming, sure, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Ah! That guy! That shrug-shoulders-don't-give-a-shit-apathetic-as-fuh guy. What a terribly wonderful man. He is my poison. But I also have other poisons... Ready?
*The basic white girl poisons, such as caffeine, hummus, avocados, REI shopping sprees. Okay, so only the caffeine is poison. And I guess consumerism is also poison. But hummus and avocados? If having shiny hair and amazing toast is poisonous, then ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
*Running on an ecologically unfriendly conveyor belt until my ankles/knees/feet creak/throb/swell vs. feelin' hella guilty, unnecessarily, for resting. So either I beat myself up physically or I beat myself up emotionally. Pick your poison. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I give up on speaking about poisons. Well, I didn't "give up" per say, I just concluded the discussion a little earlier than expected. Was it even a discussion? Go ahead, chime in! Wind chimes: Another poison.
My morning walks have begun to be progressively more stressful. Am I just more paranoid? I feel like I get stared at more, especially if I am wearing a sleeveless top, and that I am either a ghost or people don't give a shit when I am walking down the sidewalk -- they continue to ride their bike/speed walk in my direction, forcing me into the curb. It's not a big deal, I know, but even tiny things like this deflate my spirit. Dramatic? Yes. I just want my spaaaace, man. Give me somewhere to walk where my mind can wander without wondering if I'll have to defend my character to judgmental doofuses.
Doofuses or doofi?
Short posts. That's right. No need to stress myself out. Just gotta chill, man. Gotta chill in my chinos on my sailboat with my golden retriever and CD full of humpback whale songs. The easy life may be my strongest poison. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯