Sometimes life throws you shit. It pretty much takes a baby's diaper that has a fresh landfill with the stench of hell and chucks at your face. Then life laughs at you and calls you names. To make matters worse, life says you have to clean up the shit, and all the crap has scattered all over the floor and walls. So you try to clean it, but it spreads even more. The entire room is white and the shit is just staining the walls. You keep scrubbing, but to no avail. Somehow, you managed to get some high-quality cleaning supplies to clean up the mess, although they were pricy. After long hours of dedication and cleaning, you finally cleaned the mess. Life doesn't say anything or reward you, but you have a strange feeling of satisfaction. The journey wasn't enjoyable but you feel proud of yourself. The sight of such a spotless room fills you with joy, and you were responsible for tidying it up.
So, you know what this metaphor was? It was bullshit.
YOU ARE READING
My Personal Thoughts and Ramblings
RandomWelcome to the place where my mind is literally an open book. (Warning: Some chapters get very emo and angsty) (and looking back at this 2 years later it's so cRINGY FOR ME UGH IM SORRY)
