Instagram Posts

You know, it’s not my fault I’ve got other shit going on in my life. Yeah, buddy, let’s hold off on being so accusatory before we’ve got the whole picture. God forbid I have friends, god forbid I have hobbies, god forbid I plan on going to the gym tomorrow, probably; God forbid I want to do literally anything else other than your stupid discussion post.

Some dumbass signed me up for four upper-level major courses the second-to-last semester before I graduated, and now I’m stuck with those ramifications. I really hate dealing with the consequences of my actions. Well, you know what? There’s a job offer sitting in my inbox right now. Yeah, I said it: job. We’re not afraid of using naughty words like that at The Hare. Bet you wouldn’t find that at The Diamondback, bitches.

How about instead of your discussion post, I get a new piercing on a whim in order to put off the impending doom. How about I listen to some lovely music with some nice headphones and sit down on a nice park bench and sketch a really lovely park in front of me. How about I grab a preroll at that one shop that’s totally not meant to sell them and go to a lovely little firepit at a lovely little apartment building and get a lovely amount of high and maybe cough a little bit because I’m a little pussy, but it’s all okay because I’m doing literally anything besides posing an original question with a citation to our readings and then respond to two of my classmates and pretend to be astounded by their regurgitations of a chatbot.

I’ve maybe got at least three more years before my major is completely automated away; please just let me grab my paycheck before the only occupation left for me is a sex slave for Peter Thiel. He’ll make me get on Ozempic and become a skinny skinny twink, and I’ll be nothing but a bag of skin and bones, and he’ll extract every little bit of life force from me until I’m shivering, cold on the floor. Then I’ll get a notification on the overhead speakers in my enclosure from a Claude agent telling me it’s time for my daily slop bowl and injection of Chinese peptides. I shovel down the amalgamation of mystery meat and rice and take my shot, and I’ll smile. I’ll be happy. Because I’m not doing a discussion post.