no offense but almost every modern novel written by a misanthropic female author sounds the same.. I woke up today and had some coffee. I masturbated thinking about Brad. We arenât together but weâre fucking. I am so much smarter than everyone else. Everything I say is witty, sarcastic, and clever in a way no one in the real world would ever speak. I take a drag from my cigarette and watch the man in the apartment across from me. Iâve always wondered what it would be like to have his dick in my mouth. Btw I have a deep and profound knowledge on niche topics that I casually refer to in conversation. Somehow everyone around me understands it. Iâm cold and pale and my freezer dinner is ready. Itâs spaghetti and existential dread night. I eat it with a glass of wine. Mommy dearest calls me. She has deposited my monthly check from my dead beat dad. I buy cigarettes and a vibrator. I am deeply unhappy.
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