Written after picking a scab and now I will bleed forever for a thousand moons until the oceans have dried up, the tectonic plates have cracked and man’s cities have crumbled to dust and alien life forms will come to our desiccated husk of a world and my scab will still be fucking bleeding.

I was walking back from the gym this morning (#FitFam) and as I was walking, I happened across a couple who were walking in the same direction, wearing athletic clothing. I didn’t really think anything of it, and since I have long muscular legs (ohmygod I have been chafing so much that if we were stuck in the desert together sans supplies, I could start a fire with my thighs), I quickly power-walked past them.

I’m walking, walking, listening to a podcast—okay it’s the Bitch Bible podcast which I recently subscribed to and I’m such a stereotype—when suddenly the couple comes sprinting up behind me, except I didn’t know until they sped around me like a roaring river and made me quirk. However, it was just a short sprint, so, like, twenty paces up, they stopped running and starting walking very slowly.

And I fucking realized that with my long muscular legs and thick thighs, that at the pace they were going at and the pace I was going at, I would soon overtake them (physics (?)). I guess I could’ve slowed my pace but death is imminent and I had eggs to fry for breakfast so my pace waits for no man. Praying that they were done sprinting/would drop dead, I went around as we both crossed the street.

Butthole clenched, I walked along the—now much narrower—sidewalk, tensed like I was in the g*ddamn Hunger Games, and lo-and-fucking-behold, they come sprinting past me and ten paces up, drop off into a leisurely jog.

Side bar: THIS DOES NOTHING FOR YOU. Yes, sporadic sprints will confuse your muscles and help you burn more calories, but then dropping off into a FUCKING SLOW WALK will just put you at risk for my foot into your lower spine.

If you took Ancient Greek in high school/didn’t have many friends in middle school and read Greek mythology (I was both of these), then you might’ve heard of the myth of Sisyphus. Damned by the gods for…idk, skipping out on his cable bill or something, Sisyphus was forced in the afterlife (it’s like life, but more dead) to push a huge boulder up a hill. That in itself is actually just a CrossFit workout (wow, “CrossFit” is a recognized word in my Microsoft cuz I got that 2016 download), so the gods wanted to make it harder. When Sisyphus reaches the top of the hill, the boulder rolls back down and Sissy must start again. And that’s the real punishment for Sisyphus: the futile nature of his struggle, the constant cycle, no real traction gained despite his efforts.

Walking, like a sheep hemmed in by a pair of fucking sheepdogs in Nike gear, I felt like I was trapped in my own Sisyphean hellscape. Except I would rather burn campus to the ground than get stuck in an endless cycle with these fucks.

End of the story is that eventually we came to a corner and the path diverged into two. I hovered gently behind them and decided I would take the road less traveled on, aka the road where these two fucking weren’t. I can’t handle couples in general, but I especially can’t handle being herded by a couple.

Couple of fucks.

I moved back to school on Thursday, which is why I didn’t post anything that day. Not because I didn’t have the time. I had the time. I just didn’t want to.

This might just be a ~quirky little quirk~ of someone who had a double helping of anxiety and depression (greedy, I know), but transitions (school to home, home to school, USSR to Russia—fucked me up) are especially difficult for me to process. So my first day back—Thursday—after my parents left, I busied myself before hanging out with a friend and then hanging out with another friend and watching RuPaul’s Drag Race: AllStars 2 (#spon?) to ride out the lingering anxiety of being in a “new” place even though I moved back into my old apartment and I’m a fucking senior on campus. Anxiety has no rhyme or reason or rhythm (much like myself).

It’s Saturday today, and I definitely feel a lot more calmed and grounded—fame hasn’t gotten to my head—and also the Sisyphus-sheepdog incident really made me laugh, so I decided that I was in a stable enough condition to write this.

Ohmygod side bar: I’m gonna say what, but I’m making a very big life decision within the next few weeks, and I will be revealing that when it comes to fruition. VERY EXCITING STUFF.

So that’s really it. I’ve been wearing a lot of light-wash denim lately, and the other day I wore my Birkenstocks for so long I got a blister. Also I’ve been chafing up a storm lately for some reason, and I rubbed deodorant on my inner thighs this morning (per a friend’s suggestion, that is not a usual thing I do), and it helped a little bit. But I couldn’t quite get used to the feeling of lubey thighs and that really affected my mentality for the day.

Side bar: Buy my single “Lubey Thighs” on iTunes. The full album will be dropping later this month, Diary-Ah.

#LUBEYTHIGHS