We all have one. Yeah, I’ve used that intro before, but this is free “entertainment” (laughing at my miserable attempts at humor), so drop a brick on your foot.
Anyways, if the first thought that occurred to you whilst reading that first sentence was “a nose”, you are correct, but wrong. If you didn’t read the title and cheat, we can be friends.
……..This is a list of things I should probably stop doing.
I wake up late every morning and barely have enough time to have a proper breakfast. But not JUST because I’m lazy, but because I don’t really like to eat breakfast. Like, I don’t like bagels because cream cheese tastes funky and makes me rather corpulent (I learned this word today, high fiye buddie!), I don’t like eggs because eggs, I like pancakes, but where is the weird pancake face on the IHOP menus to make me one? Or even the Pillsbury man. Ok no, not the Pillsbury man. He looks like a glorified (HALAL) marshmallow and once, I had a nightmare in which he gouged my eyeballs out and the creepy old lady from the commercial in 2005 baked them into a crumbly pastry.
THAT is the sick method of how your chicken pot pies are made.
Anyway, so I usually just drink the coffee while looking out the car window and imagine myself as the captain of a bhangra team alongside Zayn Malik, Deepika Padukone, Morgan Freeman and Malala Yousufzai, then kinda forget the cup in there.
So I don’t like to sugarcoat things, (except pretzels. Have you ever tried a sugar coated pretzel?? SWEET BUTTERY BABY JESUS), and I’ll tell you like it is: I’m crazy. I’m always in my own world. I’m obsessed with myself. MY hairstyle. MY gpa. MY crocs. Just kidding, you can have the crocs.
Don’t get me wrong. I remember people’s birthdays, give honest advice when asked, and like to think I am a good sister, daughter, friend, and future wifey (It’s true, ask Zayn Malik!). But there’s more to it.
The point is, I’m always so busy being Duriba, I forget what others might feel like. How others are affected by my actions, how people might react differently than me when put in similar situations.
AND I NEEDA STAHP.
I have this philosophy, this mantra, I constantly reiterate every night while my bloodshot eyeballs gawk at the computer screen before me… “Let me work. I can sleep when I die.”. And boy, do people hate me for it. I feel like I generally want to do a variety of things in life pertaining to different categories, so I’m always trying to move fast and far, which is my gravest mistake.
“Duriba, hon bun, you need to chill out.” my alter ego, Coco Swanson, calls out. “Sit down, have a naan and some butter chicken, and gaze out over the horizon”.
Reader with the flared pajamas, you do too. You, too, have a bit of Duriba in you. You must overcome her annoyingness by chilling out and by letting life take its course. You must dance in the rain, take deep breaths, stay away from harem bois and gals, pray on time, and you should learn to love who you are becoming.
You WILL love who you are becoming, and if you don’t……...a call to the Pillsbury man might be necessary.