Sometimes I think that I may be dying. I am not a hypochondriac or anything; something, somewhere, in my body hurts that I wasn’t expecting and my brain goes straight to that. I wasn’t born with a get out of jail free card, so it could happen. I am not one of those narcissistic pricks that thinks that nothing bad is ever going to happen to them.

So I just go: ”Well, this is it. I always thought that would be more poetic than a pain in my toe, but it is what it is. Better get my affairs in order…’’ Then I remember that I don’t have any affairs… Do you ever look at your car and think: “My car is a Dump! (sighs)”

You had never really noticed it before but you have nothing to leave behind. If you died today the only thing your family would have to remember you by it is an old sock and it has a hole in it.

I always thought I would leave something great behind, like a cool scientific theory, a piece of art or the reminder of a great haircut. Something that society could use and benefit from. Now I look around and I still haven’t done anything great and I am not getting any younger, even though you can’t really tell; and if you say you can I will kill you!

Anyway, I think that being afraid of failure at this point in life is useless. It can only get better, you can only climb when you are at the bottom… And if you do sink any lower, think positive: Hell is warm, you will never have to use a coat ever again.

Even when you have something to leave behind, sometimes, no one fucking cares. Everyone is too busy, pretending they are busy, because they would like to really be really busy. Just like we all do. We pretend all the time.

Take this as an example: I was at the university cafeteria the other day and I saw a couple having lunch together. They were middle aged, probably not students, but there is a really good chance that they were. I don’t know and I don’t fucking care, because that is not important to our story. The point is they were having a polite conversation and the women turns to the man and offers him her tangerine (the fruit, don’t be an asshole and go assuming things). So I can only assume that they were close friends or maybe lovers. I stopped paying attention, because….. pppppppppppppppppp

Oh sorry, my dog just stopped by my side and I was petting her. I would delete that but I can’t find the button. Where was I? Oh yes, so after about five minutes I look again and she is gone and the man, who I thought had some kind of social disability, because she was so much happier talking to him than he was talking to her, was all smiles and talk to some other guys sitting next to him now. And he was eating the fucking tangerine and I look in front of me and there was the woman: looking at the table with a hurtful expression on her face, watching him eat the tangerine that she gave to him.

WHOEVER YOU ARE YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! She gave you fruit and her friendship and you couldn’t even make nice conversation for five minutes? Well, who cares. I will probably never see them again. Actually, she was at the shopping centre the other day with a different guy. Guess this one did want her tangerine.

I tell you this story to make you see that not everyone is as into you as you are into them. No one has time to hear you complain about why no one will publish your book, or why no one will give you money for your pretzel company, because they are worried about their self-centred lives. They may pretend to be into you for a while and say that they will help you and listen to you, but eventually you will have to get your ass out of the couch, pay for the consult and do something for yourselves. We all do.

Even I don’t like when I have to listen to people complain about how fat their ass looks. I usually just agree and move on, because I have more important things to do. I have to take care of my life, because it is going nowhere.

I am a terrible sleeper, which is kind of ironic, since it is my favourite kind of exercise; but, the other night I found myself at three a.m. panicking about my future. I was worrying about what kind of job I was going to get, because I just know that I am going to hate everything that doesn’t have to do with being a super hero, a pirate or a minion. Those ships have sailed. You should have seen me, looking at the sealing, with eyes wide open, thinking about how it was going to be having all those bills to pay and wondering how cool it would be if I could just be Tinkerbell.

At night is when my brain thinks it’s alright to start making lists, thinking about what I have to do the next day and what are the lyrics to Pharrell’s song ‘’Happy’’, so naturally I take forever to fall asleep and have time to worry about everything that is yet to happen. I am sure that once the time comes it won’t be as scary and I will pull through just fine. Still Adulthood is the worst thing to happen to a person. They just think because you turned twenty-one, you suddenly know what a mortgage is and how to pay it. They should have a major in University just about how to be human. That would be helpful. I would like to major in that.

You know that image you had of how your life was going to be when you grew up? You were going to be a doctor, a dog walker, a firefighter, a police officer, or a rodeo clown, until you realized that you had a weird thing with clowns; you know, something that really gave back to society. It sucks to grow up and realize that you didn’t do anything that you set out to do when you were five. Instead you live in the constant fear of the day you actually have to be on your own, pay the bills, have a real boring job and everyone is asking you when you are going to get married, find a boyfriend or girlfriend and leave your ‘’roommate’’ to find your own place.

Your parents don’t give you lifts anymore, so you have to pay for gas, especially if you have a car; or ride the bus. The bus is the worst: you know you are going to end up sitting next to a person who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space or is very inappropriate, asking you personal questions all the time.

My point is, you don’t want to seat next to me on a bus. And somehow there is always that annoying soul that is talking on the phone so loud, the people walking by the bus know they went to the gynaecologist that morning and their business is just fine.

My point with all of this is: GIVE US BACK OUR TANGERINES! Don’t pretend to care about our lives when you don´t. Don’t force us to start a conversation about how unmeaningful our lives really are just so you feel better about yours!

Oh, shit, I just remembered, I have to go buy more tangerines. Bye!