stop time

Dear Standard Time,

I know you like to act all like you are the “real” or “foundational” time – as if there is anything “real” about “time” – but I just wanted you to know how much you make me want to die. Sure, there have been a lot of things that I actually like that make me want to die, but I liked them. You are in no way worth it. So now I have about 5 months of putting up with you and your world-hating self where I have to force myself to do groceries and swim and care about anything at all.

This letter is a few days late, but I was drunk for the first one and hung over for the second, so that now it is the third day since you’ve shown up this half of the year and I barely want to move. And perhaps the only good thing Bush has ever done in his entire life is to shorten your yearly existence.

Love, Lori

P.S. – Any idea as to why I woke up with a swollen ankle the first day after your activation? I was blaming it on other things, like the drunken sex I was having with a stranger, but he was only choking me, there was no ankle play involved at all – I am convinced that it was all because of you!

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