Oh. My. God. I'm fucking sad. There is nothing quite as shitty as that Monday drive into work. You're on the highway and just for a moment you debate about whether or not you should just keep driving. Head North, start a new life. Maybe on a nature preserve. Work with your hands and build a little log cabin. Fish out of the nearby stream. Some days you go down to fetch water from the creek and you see a hawk soaring above. You don't even miss TV anymore. You grow a beard and your muscles tighten over the months of work. You spend hours chopping wood in preparation for the coming winter months. Everything is so alive out here, you don't even know how you managed to live in society.
Then you snap out of your daydream and you're in a Starbucks. You're being waited on my a tight piece of 18 year old ass and you remember now why you live here. Tight butts. "One decaf grande, Miss!"
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