My Brain Takes Care Of Me When My Gut Won’t

The subconscious is funny. It takes care of me when my instincts won’t. When your room is a pig sty, and every time I come over you still haven’t cleaned, I stub my toe or trip on everything, and I have to beg you to provide me–your guest–a clean towel, space on the bed, basic amenities, a single empty space on the floor to even put my overnight bag….. I’m attracted to you less and less each time until I’m finally not attracted to you at all. My subconscious looks into the future and sees you never pulling your weight, and it slowly cures me.

Thanks, subconscious–the real MVP. To the gross dude, you have literally shoved me out of bed and made me feel unwelcome for the last time. Congrats, it worked?

About Marpoo

Purveyor of sass and unsubstantiated rhetoric. View all posts by Marpoo

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