One of these days I might just die from a heart attack, brain aneurysm, or stroke. The amount of bullshit I have to contend with is unbelievable. I only have so much patience before it wears thin. Look, I'm trying to adult, rationalize, even justify, but once I've crossed the threshold of not giving a fuck, then I really don't give a rat's ass. Does it paint me as a villain? Perhaps. Maybe it should be that way.