Not really, no, but do I have a choice?
Oh yes, of course I do. Find another blogging platform that uses no internet or is about to shut down due to the lack of insight that comes with the lack of cookies. My consent doesn't really make a difference, but thanks for asking anyway. Surely no one's mad enough to say no to cookies, sometimes even when they know they've been poisoned. Worth the nice taste, although some sort of warning would be ideal.
In a perfect world people would disclose any unpleasant aspects of an activity prior to its commencement. This is commonly known as "honesty" or "fairness" and smart people (like scientists and shit) reckon these two are useful traits of any civilised, functional adult. Pffft.
I would have grown to love the people from my job if they'd warned me about the cruel lack of professionalism behind it; however, I had to subsequently discover this on my own, be stupidly surprised and marvel at the repulsively cunning nature of our kind. I hate being strung along in any way, shape or form and there's nothing that makes me more psychotic than uncertainty.
I'm extremely, entirely, totally, absolutely psychotic right now, as you can probably tell. I despise people in a way that's made me completely disinterested in getting to know anyone and spending time together pretending that we both care about each other's lives in blissful alcoholic ignorance. Everyone I trust is or will be very far away for a long time, and a fair bit of that was my choice. My choice of a bitter cookie that's slowly becoming stale and insipid as the rest of me gets a little bit more numb every day.
I'm quiet and nice, but I'm not an idiot. Most people take a while to understand that, if they ever do.
I like to see the best in people no matter who they appear to be, which might be an indirect cause of my anxiety. Never have any expectations from anyone until they've proven themselves and you'll never be disappointed.
I might actually have this cookie.
