Life’s ejector seat


The people who irritate you just by breathing (make it staaaahhhhpp) were put in your life for a reason.

Consider my last apartment. I should have moved sooner. For six years I should have moved sooner. Then they made it unbearable to the point of no air/windows for six months and constant construction.

I like to call it life’s ejector seat. If you don’t get out of where you’re not supposed to be, then life will KICK YOU OUT.

Not that the new place is much of a prize, what with upstairs crackheads and now people taking my assigned parking spot and also folks being unable to operate the trash chute so they leave their shit on the floor.

In any event, I wonder if the fish tank that makes me so absolutely fucking nuts is put on this earth to change me.

To make me stronger/better.

Or to eject me.

I haven’t decided yet.

But while I’m awake at night thanks to the screaming (upstairs and in my own head), these are the thoughts I think.

Maybe the discomfort of the fish tank really serves to cover up for some other things that made my eyelids twitch. Removing the fish tank, say, means I would have to deal with other things that need to be cleaned up.


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