More Mitch Christmas
His bed was a table when he wasn’t sleeping in it. It was also sometimes a chair. He couldn’t understand why we bother to breed dogs into miniature breeds of a same version that already exists, why we make miniatures of certain dogs but not others, why someone’s always got to creep up on you and tell you why shouldn’t drink coffee, why you should or shouldn’t do some drug, or that they did more drugs than you did, even if they definitely didn’t— it definitely doesn’t matter. No matter what you tell anybody, they’re always gonna tell you they did it better than you did, or first, or too at least. Everyone is always best friends with every famous person but isn’t, can hook you up with free Xanax or an iPhone, but can’t.
When was it ever going to stop feeling like something, and start feeling like nothing?