Being an INFP sucks when someone is demanding you to give a fuck about a bullshit conversation.

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

Spring time in a recession/political depression….#poetry

My allergies are kicking my ass.

The day to day journey’s from home to work and back again fill me with woe.

Not for the work or job as it be. It’s because of the consent bullshit shit in the metaphorical air. I’m allergic to bullshit and politically motivated as such there is alot in the air in that regards.

Photo by Q. Hu01b0ng Phu1ea1m on Pexels.com

It’s a upon us. The season you work longer hours and think about chances to grab more out of a week and day. The prices aren’t falling. So the pay must keep raising.

There’s a reason for it all. There’s a cause behind it all I just can’t name him.

Beta bitch Joe Biden

Oh well. I can’t seem to remember the name of the person. All I can hear are voices continually talking about Will Smith for some reason.

Warm regards

Guardiandogg