If you’re a total fuck up and never learnt how to look after yourself properly there’s a chance you’ve discovered that you can sustain the fucking misery that is your life by purchasing packets of pasta and middle of the supermarket shelf sauce. Pasta and sauce in a big fucking bowl, it’s instant noodles for cowards who can’t face their own reflection. Sure, that 10 minutes it takes to make really cuts into your busy schedule of telling feminists to go kill themselves on twitter and cumming repeatedly into your own socks whilst perusing pictures of your high school friends at the beach, but the end result is the sustenance to take you through to another 3am truth finding mission scrolling Breitbart news looking for reasons to blame everyone but yourself for your fucking meaningless existence.
Which is why this is confusing to me - how do these fucking disaster couples actually come about? Is it because you were single for so long and you finally stopped lying to yourself and realised that you’re actually literally going to die alone? I can just fucking imagine what you were like before you broke and found someone as pathetic as yourself - one of those people who thought they were making a choice to be single because they wanted to be free! That you’re making a conscious decision to be some big baby dick in the wind bachelor and you somehow haven’t found someone deserving of your totally unrealistic perceptions of how great you are.
Then you realised the truth; that most to all people are just objectively better than you and you’re actually a lazy shit cunt with no future. Bet those days were a bit rough hey mate? Bet you felt really scared and alone didn’t you? Fucking pussy - must have rustled the ol’ inflated sense of self to have to swallow your fucking pride eventually. Life isn’t like reddit is it? You’re not actually very special at all; life wasn’t giving you many upvotes was it?
So then your mum hooks you up with some peplum wearing bitch who uses embarrassing terms like “totes magoats” and “awesomesauce” and posts humiliating Facebook status updates that cop sympathy likes from other fucking losers that have joined her on her shitty march towards death. Look at you two, fucking pathetic, ‘his’ and ‘hers’ plastic wine cups, ugh, drinking inappropriately paired wine before a night of watching some bullshit like Suits together, nodding along, admiring those shitty characters, thinking that’s how successful people behave, lying to yourself thinking “that’ll be me one day!”
But good on you mate, it takes a few rotten bananas to make a banana cake, and as shitty as a banana cake is at least it’s arguably better (but possibly not) than being put in the bin with the rest of the garbage. I hope this fucking depressing life beats those old lonely nights crying yourself to sleep like a fucking failure.
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