CBD GUMMI OBSERVATION #1

Because Facebook is a graveyard of memories (I refuse to use the word trigger on principle) I have been balls deep in Instagram. Safer. (denialllll)

Instagram is only good for three things, in my opinion: puppies, ridiculous amounts of food with chocolate/cheese oozing off of it, and cool graveyard/travel photography. A trove of insightful, non cliche advice, it is not.

Between “she’s so lonely but she’ll be ok, she knows what she’s about and she is strong” (BARFFF) and “you will find your king/queen”, there’s something much worse. Two things, actually.

One.

The whole “everyone breaks up so easily, you have to stay no matter what. You have to try.” Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. This sentiment is EVERYWHERE. Which is worrisome, because what the fuck kind of message is that? It takes two. And if one keeps trying and the other doesn’t, guess what: that will ruin your ass. What if it’s an abusive relationship? You gonna try then? Dumb asses.

Two.

“You have to let the love in. No matter how afraid you are. Don’t ever walk away from it.”

Um, no. There’s something called toxicity. Look it up. Many people are toxic. Love is one thing. Selfishness is another. Newsflash: Neither one of them have anything to do with the other. Nothing good, anyway.

It boggles my fucking mind that people are spreading these harmful, unrealistic yarns everywhere. For the sake of my blood pressure, I try to remember that most of them are hyped up fourteen year olds on Adderall. And then I remember that I’m a CBD popping, angry 35 year old who can’t remember the last time she hoped like that. You get that once and then, like virginity, it’s gone forever. I can’t remember that feeling anymore than I can remember what having a hymen feels like.

I know, deep down, that not everyone subscribes to those incredibly stupid beliefs. I know that I’m angry and bitter and my inner child is pissed because she wants to attend the bomb ass party but the bomb ass party is in the basement of a really fucking scary house.

So that inner child tells herself that the party would have to end soon anyway, so why scare the shit out of herself? Why hurt the host of the party? Not their fault she’s a pussy.

I’m going to like more pictures of puppies before I start screaming at these basic ass bitches on Instagram like they’re on my lawn.

bah, humbug.