I'd like to make a return please. Your conditions clearly stipulate that one is only given as much as they can handle. I don't know what the others have been saying, but I am not doing OK with this load you've given me. I think there's been some kind of mistake?
If you need me to fill out some kind of form, I'd be happy to oblige - but you have gotta take some of this crap off my hands. I don't know who you might be able to "redistribute" these things to - I'm hoping you might be able to recycle, or better yet, liquidate things altogether.
The incessant neck pain,
the never ending fucking headache,
the earache, the plantar fasciitis,
the fat pad atrophy (great sense of irony there bud; real nice of you to shrink the single most important piece of fat in my fat-rich body!)
the bad hair,
the big ugly feet,
that fingernail on my right hand middle finger that Just. Keeps. Breaking
the asshole boss,
the crooked nose,
the instinctive pull to eat my feelings,
the poor sleep,
the fear, the angst and all the sadness,
the complete and distinct void of purpose in my life
and that glorious innate reflex to run, anytime something seems remotely hard or uncomfortable or scary.
And you know what? To me, pretty much everything is scary.
Enough already. I'm waving the white flag. I just can't juggle this many things at once, truth be known I'm a terrible juggler - two things - tops!
For the love of all things good in the world, will you please give a girl a break and ease up? And, if you won't take anything back, will you at least send someone down here to help me out?