A five year old at the gas station said he liked my “bat woman” tattoo excitedly. His father condescendingly asked how many I had. I told him I had 11. He scoffed and asked how waiting tables all my life sounded and I said, “it’s alright on the weekends, but throughout the week I’m your son’s teacher.” He walked out without another word.
IF SOMEONE MAKES YOU FEEL BAD FOR THE BANDS YOU LISTEN TO OR THE WAY YOU TAKE YOUR COFFEE OR HOW YOU WEAR YOUR HAIR OR WHAT YOU WEAR OR THE WAY YOUR LAUGH SOUNDS THEN FUCKING DROP THEM LIKE THE PIECE OF SHIT THEY ARE AND GO FIND SOMEONE WHO THINKS YOUR LAUGH SOUNDS LIKE THE BEST GODDAMN SONG THEY’VE EVER HEARD AND OFFERS TO MAKE YOUR COFFEE FOR YOU AND THINKS YOU DRESS LIKE ART
technically if you don’t cut a cake and just eat the whole thing with a fork you still only had one piece