spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

30 Nov

I’m happy that it’s Friday, that tomorrow is December, that my hair is being cooperative even though it’s been in a damp bun atop my head for seven hours. But my lips are chapped. I scrub them with my toothbrush and wash away the dead skin, but some days they hate me. Some days they stay chapped even when I scrub them so hard they bleed. Won’t let it get me down. Won’t stop thinking about Taylor Swift with Harry Styles, running her fingers through his gorgeous hair, the kind of song she’ll write when they break up. Probably something snarky. Probably not a Jake Gyllenhaal/Fireman kind of heartbreak. Should have known she was trouble.

I need new CDs. The kind you can hold. The kind you can insert into the old-fashioned slot in your new car. Because pirating music is just too much of a hassle now. Because there’s too much I could listen to and choosing has never been a thing I’m good at. And my first generation Zune (because the only Apple product I’ve owned was an iPod Mini from 2005 to 2006 that broke and could not be fixed and Mac kids were tools and I was bitter and I thought being better meant I needed to be different and buy the next best MP3 player and convince people to buy PCs even though I have no valid arguments for it except that I have a Dell and it’s fine) doesn’t make sense in this world anymore, bulky, heavy, matte black with real buttons, actual buttons that one has to press to select a song. I just want a CD to tell me what to listen to and keep listening to and play loudly and like and sing with and chase away Dementors especially in December when all my favorite things are happening. Also, like, CDs are vintage and that’s kind of a thing now.


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