1001 Ways to Embarrass Yourself While Avoiding Injuries

Her dreams were beautiful, they were solid and coloured vividly, as if carefully drawn by an artistic hand on the whitest, purest canvas. And they were always about America. Umrika. Oh, America. Land of Milk and Honey Freedom God Guns Bible thumpers Immigrants Emigrants Hollywood Burgers New York honey You Gotta Say it like Ya mean It Ellis Island Democrats Republicans Trump Clinton Obama You Gotta Vote Are Ya kidding' me? How d'ya werk this damn thing Eileen? Collard Greens Black Lives Matter The Latino Vote Catholics Muslims Christians Sikhs Hindus Jews Buddhists I can't say I guess I'm atheist Wow that's progressive. Umrika. The Real America was hidden somewhere outside her small bubble of posters, irascible like a fever itch in the dark nights. Sometimes the itch was so strong even after she'd thrown off blankets she'd toss and turn , slapping at the slippery sheen of sweaty skin the damp heat swelling everywhere. The Real America was not POS...

*Note: This is a fictionalised account of events. Any resemblance to any living persons, animals, things etc are purely coincidental. The long drag of a cigarette brings some brief respite from the swirling thoughts in her head. What did it all mean? The anger, the joy, the pain, the depression? Surely, it must have had some significance? There must have been some difference from her actions to the actions of the many, many middle class maniacs before her who'd have done the same things? Look, she types, banging it out on the keyboard. Look, you idiot. The key to being profound is to be depressed. Not sad, but depressed which is essentially being sad with the flab cut out. No crap. You look the world in its eyes through your tears. Being deep, her fingers spell, being deep is . She doesn't know. Everytime she tries, she is told to stop lying. Her mother has read her work, the work she is proud of having created, from veiny hands and sallow skin, but her moth...

Readers, readers. I have previously and continuously mentioned colleges. Indecisively, I must add, which has continually being annoying for both myself and various family members around me. *cough, cough, MOMMMY* JK, except not really. I've seriously been stressing about it and the words: "Best Fit". Like EEEwwwwwwww. "Find your best fit college." "Let _______ quiz tell you exactly which UC you should attend." "Discover which Ivy League is best for you." Instead of TV shows and embarrassing videos of cats and the Jeremy Kyle show or WWYD episodes, my internet history consists mostly of such titles, which can often be more embarrassing than Jeremy Kyle shouting at a poor, weeping man/woman. I have, my friends, perhaps for better or worse decided to post which colleges I hopefully am applying to. Ish. Hoping to declare my major as political science and end up working as either a diplomat for UN or in finance, I will be happy ...