My internal world is often times the playground for all my ideas, dreams, strategies for staying ahead of bell curve of bordom.

Every INFP has a thing (Obession) we all busy ourselves with between now and dirt nap. Mean is writing with splash of music to uplift my mood on a bad day.

Big pet peeve when my energy is low I can be bothered to hold my fucking head up for fucking generic conversation. Paying attention is just not happening.

I know. I sound like a fucking asshole writing this shit. I accept this. Why? I can’t control it. It’s just me. My mind. The question. I can’t stand to hear it.

“You know Tina got a fat ass.”

I start counting. “Yeah. I know.”

“You want to hit that, right. I’d hit that.”

Holy shit. Help me Jesus.

Warm Regards

Guardiandogg