finding out picasso died in 1973 feels like the fakest thing ive ever heard. everyone talks about him like he lived in a cave with nothing but a torch and paint he made from berries or bear shit or somethin but nah this dude probably sat down watchin looney tunes thinkin “damn i should draw some dude with a nose on his forehead thatd be dope” i feel so lied to
adult emailing culture is overthinking how polite you sound and forgetting to send the attachments
me: i am INSPIRED i want to WRITE
my brain, immediately: i have never once even seen a sentence
i need to stop imagining scenarios in my head that have a -2% chance of actually happening it’s becoming a problem
i am an idiot sometimes but sometimes i am an idiot to be funny you know? for the joke. and i want people to know the difference. sometimes my actions are purposeful. sometimes i think. i want you to know that. even when i am just being a regular idiot i choose to say things knowing i am an idiot. i am the chooser of my own fate. i am the god of my own reality.
