Sometimes in life, people think you owe them something when really you don’t owe them anything at all. For instance, right now I have a big wet spot on my shirt. So what? It isn’t anyone’s business to know how it got there. So everyone can stop looking at it and stop wondering!
Why does anyone even care what caused this damp Alabama-shaped blotch? Are they a scientist who studies the topography of wet spots? No? So maybe they should just forget about it!
Look, I have a lot going on in my life, okay? Sometimes things spill on my shirt. Maybe this spot is the spill itself, maybe this spot is the result of me trying to clean up the original spill. It doesn’t really matter. People should lay off me! People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and people should leave me alone about this spot. I am not overreacting.
Tell me you haven’t glanced in the mirror only to notice you’ve had a dab of Sriracha sauce or a smear of minty white crust chilling on your shirt all day. You can’t tell me that, because it’s happened to you. Maybe that’s exactly what happened to me today! Who knows? Who cares? Fuck you!
Don’t ask or you will just be disappointed because I am NOT revealing my secrets.
Why are you still asking me? Jesus! In the Venn diagram of things I owe you and information about this wet spot on my shirt, there is nothing! It’s empty! So you shouldn’t expect to hear any answers about this situation.
Could have been bird poop. Could have been blood for all you’ll ever know. Maybe I’m a murderer. Honestly, don’t ask me.
What I’m saying is that anything could have caused this big wet spot on my shirt. Who cares? It’s none of your goddamn business.
