If I were an animal,

Fucked up in the crib making hypotheses.

My Theorem.

The shower remains, as ever, a sanctum for the mind's most dubious revelations. It is there, mid-lather, mid-existential drift, that I arrived at a truly questionable epiphany: The sudden, unshakable urge to cook ramen not in water, but in carbonara sauce.

Maybe you'll think, "wow. It's incredible just how abysmal and pathetic I really AM!" Maybe you'll lift some weights in the morning. Maybe you'll take a self-help class.

Maybe in a couple of years, Andrew, you'll have learned from this failure. I doubt it, though.

Maybe I'm over-reaching, however. Who knows? People CAN change. Maybe you'll read this, Andrew, and think long and hard about what a wasteful life you've led.

There's no turning back. This is your career, this is what defines you and this is what you'll defend to the end.

The abhorrent failure that is MS Paint Adventures, Andrew Hussie, that is your legacy.

Andrew, being that you're about 50 years old and your brain has probably hard-wired itself to accept such failures by now and write off such criticism by being "flippant", really suggests that you've passed beyond the proverbial breaking-point.

Nobody will remember Andrew Hussie. You aren't even a header or a footer in the career of someone else. You are nobody. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

In short, you are an enormous failure.

When one thinks of what man is capable of, pushing himself to the limits physically, mentally and emotionally to achieve heights of success never before mentioned, your name will not be whispered in the same, reverent fashion that others have.

Andrew? Andrew Hussie? Is that you?

Andrew, I can't and won't make this any simpler for you.
You failed at life. You failed.

I'm failing all my classes, and mommy hits me very frequently.
She also changed my name to Tickle Tipson.

Its been a year daddy. I really really miss you
Mommy said you went to the store to get milk

In fact, I'm almost certain you did. At the risk of falling into old habits again, I'm pretty sure I can tell what you're thinking most of the time.

Do you wanna know why I feel that way, Equius?
Because we were literally the same guy.

Whatever, man. I can't deny that I was perhaps a LITTLE overhyped at the prospect of having a body for the first time, but come on.

You can't seriously expect me to believe you didn't get at least a little bit of secondhand euphoria from my end of the brain.

I suppose there’s a certain melancholy to being myself again.

Keep telling yourself that.

‎
‎─── ‎ temp.
#hsrp

Conflicted.

I want you in ways incomprehensible to the human mind.

#Noticing.

#Noticing.

Who want me.

The glasses fall from my face, shaking the ground and leaving a crater like Naruto training weights.

The jokes write themselves, really.

Making a copy of myself on another device and deleting system32 to microdose on suicide.

Did you make that? That's kind of sad, dude.

This is true for a lot of people, but I think it's especially true for this one.

The unfortunate truth of the matter is that I just don't have enough respect for them to engage with them in good faith.

I think you're making things up to justify your strange hate-boner for me.