OP-ED: Suck Me Dry See If I Care

There, reader. I have run out of the last of my fucks to give. I can now declare with conviction one last time: I don’t give a shit.

Wellbutrin is plateauing. Flowers are blooming. Mask and Wig (most esteemed, upstanding organization at this university) is putting on their little make-believe circus again. Everyone I love is dying in a slow and ugly way. Donald Barthelme remains stupid and unreadable. Mississippi does not recognize the Armenian Genocide. We still cannot find a response to woke culture that is not post-irony-edgelord anti politics. The one thing that trumps love is still ego.

Most of our endeavor is still towards seeking an unreality, and not making reality bearable. You can have all of Didion’s entitlement, but you will never have half of Didion’s talent. If you resort to writing about your “identity,” you can get into The New Yorker. 

Remember, you naked agent of everything. The world didn’t corrupt you; you corrupted the world. And now you are crying? You absolute angel.