if you ask me, crazy people are a lot less crazy than normal people. normal people think their lives are super-important and that they have something to contribute to society, therefore they run around the world wreaking emotional havok on those around them, and doing stuff like “working salaried jobs” and “falling in love” and “buying multiple toothbrushes at once.” scoff scoff, i say! crazy people know that their place in the world is to think too hard about shit that makes no sense like if the last slice of pizza feels lonesome, or what it would be like to live in the tiny world created after a rainstorm, when the drops fall from the roof into a bucket, dripping over onto the green grass. and being alone, so alone, but never hurting anyone with their foolish aspirations.
omigoawd i love this duder.
I think I’m a happy medium, because while I do buy toothbrushes in bulk (and deodarent, and soap, and even those little foofy bath sponge thingies), I also am convinced that inanimate objects have feelings. For example, I KNOW my old car was sad when I traded it in. I asked Marcel if he thought it was asking itself “What did I do wrong? I was a good car?” and if it thought I was just a stupid selfish bitch bc I wanted a newer flashier car, and Marcel was like “mess”, and I only got over it when I convinced myself that someone would want my old car and give it a home.