mad

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After a 12 hour work day, I jump on my cheap bike and ride home. Soon enough I realize my handlebars are too greasy.

I can’t turn, my forward direction completely skewed from what my handles prescribe. In a frenzy, I turn and fall to the asphalt, sliced on the right side for the second time today.

Now I’m feeling full betrayal and embarrassment.

(took a break to light a large incense I bought before the fall. I’m too emotionally and physically bruised to remember the name of the scent but I bought the two named something like “sweaty cheeks” and “hot pussy” or whatever they name incense nowadays. )

Thank god I haven’t named my bike, because I’ve been saying “fuck you bike” all day long. In an angry fit, I ran inside, turned my tool bag inside out and left all my goods on the ground in the search of a multiple size alan wrench, which has helped the greasy neck situation.

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Abby is here; it’s 10:16. Companionship is real. I wonder if I’ll go to the bar.

*did not go to the bar, just went to bed.