tiny fist pump

say you didn’t put the check mark in the box

say you didn’t get to everything on the list

say you had to tell her “i didn’t do it because i didn’t want to. i went to the coffee shop instead. i took a bite of every single pastry and brought a box home for later.”

say i was too busy being stoned in the hammock under 4 blankets and 2 dogs, listening to qveen herby on repeat saying “i am the mood of the century” before falling asleep for a little bit before making dinner.

say we’re in the soup of it, a murky thick chowder and it’s blurry and weird in here, but it’s warm and i don’t want to wipe the fog from my glasses because the world is too painful

at least for now

say i need to delete my entire phone and start over

because i don’t know what to say anymore except here is a photo of my breakfast. i ate today. every meal. every pieces of toast, a tiny win. a little fist pump for keeping myself alive for one more hour, one more day, one more week.

say you missed the deadline and no one died but a rich person lost money. again, a tiny fist pump. yes. swoosh. nothing but net. a win. while everyone else scrambles around with excuses for your bad behavior.

say it’s just behavior. they’re the ones calling it bad.