Image: Rory Bristol
Everybody manages their energy in different ways, right? Some people subscribe to the spoon theory, and others just schedule themselves really, really well. Not me. I have a pile of fucks, and they run out.
Today, I have no fucks. I don’t have the fucks to be nice to the neighbors. I don’t have the fucks to match my socks. I don’t have the fucks to evenly spread the butter on my toast. Everything is “good enough” or it is left undone completely.
I don’t even have the fucks to care about whether this post is completely shit. Sorry if it is, I still love you, I just don’t care if this one’s a little shitty.
I kinda wish I had a +2 Shirt of Fucks, but if I owned a shirt like that, I could only wear it when I was completely out of fucks, all Allie Brosh style.
I give so few fucks that my lack of fucks is, in fact, a +2 Shirt of Fucks, and fuck you if you don’t like it.
It’s one of those days. Yeah.
P.S. Did you know “Fuck” can be pretty much any part of a sentence?
Fucking Fuckers Fucking Fuck Fucking Fucks, Fucker.
P.P.S. Also, if you look at the word fuck long enough, it no longer looks like *fuck*, and instead looks about as sensical as this post.