How much diagonally can one lie on a single bed? Depression, self-loathing shortly ensues. ImissyouImissyouImissyou. You don't mind that my hair sprouts from the center of my head, and thus ends up everywhere. You don't mind my debauched vocabulary or my inexcuse for experiencing carnal pleasure. Who are you anyway? So far off, imaginary daydream of mine. Whatever it is, just know that I have memorized your scent by heart. Know that I am tired of daily successes (like finishing that fucking book already) and daily failures (the inability to get out of bed). I emailed them, after I finally forced myself to figure out what the problem was (because it's never me, you know), and apparently they don't make superhero garb in my size. How fucking fantastic, right? At least now I have a legitimate excuse for being a downright cunt.
'Excuse me, are you on the job today?'
'No, you fucker. Every day is off day for me. I win'

Note: this is attributed to
http://chocomallow.blogspot.com/2011/05/jd-salinger-sine-qua-non.html