wassup.
Today’s life & motion post has one theme: life’s a bitch. Isn’t she though?
You’ll think everything’s peachessss, and then all of a sudden? Life will have a rat running underneath your apartment door into your living room, due to a possibly failed weather seal (or no weather seal altogether).
Then you’ll be sitting 48 hours later, without hearing a PEEP from your apartment complex.
I initially wrote this while in a rage, so reading it over today, I’ve found myself pondering on this a little further. Not my sick misfortune with a rat, but the notion that life is some kind of ‘bitch.’
In the moment, my fear just amplified:
- All my doors were open inside the apartment;
- I literally have nothing (lmao) except my phone.
- I don’t really know how this even happened.
- My home was sorta clean, no trash was lingering.
- And it’s like: DOES THAT MATTER? Like it’s all contaminated. It just ran in!!! Y’all might as well just burn it.
I kept saying that lmao.
But is that life’s fault though?
???
can’t keep blaming life for how we choose to live it.
I’ve been staying at my mom’s. And as much as it’s felt like curve ball. A fucking, foul. I don’t know.
I’ve honestly lost the plot. what do I do now?
But you know what? I just try to keep moving, as best as I can. My yum’s definitely been yucked— I just know I’m going to do my best to keep my life moving you know? Like. Life’s still going.
So seriously, is she a bitch? Or is it like I don’t know. She’s gonna keep on rolling. So, I mean. We should too. All she’s doing is exactly what we should: living. Like life’s just happening, and you dictate or should I say control, how that life is lived or not? No? “Easier said than done,” why the hell.
Ha.
K,
anybody wanna roommate lmao?
Bye
Robyn
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