i really, truly don’t hate people. i hate crowds. but you put someone in front of me and i will try to like them as best i can. usually they give me a reason not to! i wish that weren’t the case.
and see: i don’t exactly blame them, because [exhales weed smoke] this whole generation—hell, this whole world—was bought and sold before any of us were born. i listen to people talk and they’re just saying things they read on the internet, or in terrible hardcover books with some asshole on the cover who is wearing wood-frame glasses and a V-neck sweater and has chemically-whitened teeth. their entire lives were dreamed up by someone else. their lives are owned by someone else. and the scary part is that if you introduce ANY original thoughts into a conversation, someone will invariably ask, “wait what’s that from?” or, worse, they will decide you are a piece of shit because you said something, usually an indisputable raw truth, that makes them feel uncomfortable.