I’m tired of everything being a viral routine, a popular method. Gentle Parenting and Keto Diets and all these desperate categories we have poured ourselves into, trying to come out the right mold. I get it, I do. Kind of. No, actually, sometimes I really don’t get it. I’m supposed to, though. I’m supposed to, in order to like it, or hate it, or comment on it at all.
My dad used to say the best weight loss method was this: Eat less, mostly green stuff, move around more. He was honestly fucking brilliant that way. He was tired, too.
I’m exhausted by the relentless shove towards marketability. I am fed the fuck up with the fucking trudge through a non-viral life, caring about issues that will end the world, but aren’t quite click-bait-e enough. I am so, so fucking tired of loud and flashy tap tap tapping manicured nails into power, and of everything we ever could’ve owned coming subscription-based, with or without ads? There’s a marked difference in price, you know. It’ll change next year; go up. They’ll do it casually, until ads are most of what I’m paying for. Oh, wait, they already did.
Trad wives hijack the idea of a simpler life, go viral with it. Their collective husband slouched before the TV, bitching about the quality of their homemade cheese puffs, playing games about killing and not much else. Where has the fucking plot gone, these days? Why don’t people react anymore? They might if it’s on camera, but at the same time, fictional characters limit their humanity, scoop out the internal struggle for a surface joke, slap a smile on and be fine, ok?
I turn off my phone for the morning and don’t tell anyone. If I did, it’d become a political statement. Though I guess that’s where we’re at, isn’t it? Rest has become that; a political statement. Shutting the fuck up means something, right? It means I’m tired. I’m hashtag-exhausted. Coin a fucking term for that, go viral. Soon you’ll be able to run ads and make pennies now and then for that flashing frame of buy me around your blog.
Your blog is your diary. Your blog is public. Your blog should be a vlog, maybe. Wait, let me look at you. Oof, maybe wear some makeup first. Maybe make a podcast. You can sell ad space on those, you know. Sponsored products, casually slipped into conversation, but smile first. You’re in on the joke, and so are they. Your 50k friends snort as you put deodorant on in the middle of your book review. Twenty percent off with your special code!
I’m tired.
I’m tired.
I’m tired.
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