Marijuana Doesn’t Actually Cure Everything?!

(My titling game is as strong as ever, obvi.)

Hi guys!  GUESS WHAT?

Shortly after quitting social media, I got STUPIDLY SICK FOR 2 WEEKS.

Which means, on top of giving up my internetzzzz, I also gave up smoking and drinking and marijuana which I guess is also smoking, except I use a vaporizer, so.  SO.

Basically, 100% of my bandages were torn off simultaneously, due to circumstance.  IT WAS GREAT, and by great I mean terrible, and by terrible I mean not that bad, actually!

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Detox December

QUITTING SOCIAL MEDIA IS SO HAAAAAAAAAAARD.

You guys.  It’s weird.  I had no idea I was so emotionally addicted to the payoff I get from… what?  All the likes and comments?  The simple knowledge that my endless stream of consciousness is being projected to a handful of people who kinda enjoy it?

I DON’T KNOW.

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my eternal self-loathing has jumped the shark

My jaw is sore as FRIG, and I legit think it’s from eating too many sunflower seeds.

It’s really only to satisfy my oral fixation–and the intense love of salt that will one day lead to my death–so when I sunflower, I do it up big.  Pop 10-15 of those fuckers in one cheek, crack them in the center of my mouth, move the cracked seeds to the other cheek, spit the shell, continue until all seeds are shelled, eat them all at once.

Thing is, this takes a lot of tongue coordination and muscle use.  But it’s addictive as fuck for me, because it satisfies that weird urge to be “accomplishing something” without having to do anything hard.

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Accidentally wrote this like a private blog. Private blog? More like FRY… VET… SMOG…?!?!?

Frigggggggggg.

I’m not batting a thousand today, but I keep thinking I should write, so.  HAVE SOME WORDS.  OKAY.  WE GOOD?  WE DONE HERE?

I don’t even know what “batting a thousand” means.  Like, I know it’s baseball.  I know what batting is.  Obviously you can’t literally bat one thousand times in a game, so it has to be some sort of… points… system.

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118.

Aight.  I need to get real about some shit.  Posting this publicly scares the crap out of me, but I’m gonna try, because ya know… Accountability?  I guess?  Also I am the internet generation.  We can’t keep things to ourselves.

I’m, like.  The size I was when I was 19, right now.  And it’s weird.  It feels really weird.

It’s probably not that noticeable to other people, but.  I’m back to drowning in size 2 pants and feeling this uncomfortable excitement at the idea of maybe being a zero again.  A ZERO.  A size that shouldn’t even fucking EXIST, you guys.  I might be a zero, lol!  NEAT!

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