It’s late. I should be in bed an hour ago. I’m not really awake now. Maybe neither are you. Maybe it’s all a dream or possibly an elaborate hoax. Maybe all of this, and everyone, and everything, is just a lie pulled over your eyes, mind, and soul to keep you from the real world. You know, the one that makes sense. You’ll never get to live there. You’re stuck here. Maybe you’re here with the rest of us, maybe none of us are real at all.
Ballet is tough on feet. She prolly needs a foot rub.
20 years ago, a comic-book heroine could dress like this and only idiots would complain. That’s still true, there are just more idiots now.
She plays with big balls.
Her ponytail is so tight that it makes me wonder if her face looks different with her hair down.
Not appropriate workout gear.
Jackets this small seem impractical.
Rest is critical.
Is it still Monday? Is it Monday yet? How do we know? What if we’re all wrong, but we’re all wrong together and so we don’t know it? Could we all just agree that it’s Wednesday and it would be okay? Is Monday just an artificial construct of the cisheteronormative patriarchoppressive system???
No, my friends. Monday is real, and it is happening now, whether you believe it, like it, or are ignorant of it. Monday is concrete reality in a world gone mad. It can be harsh, but it is fair, and it comes for us all, playing no favorites and bearing no grudges.
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