I have fallen behind on my text correspondence this week because I've been obsessed with getting down these grandiose mental masturbatory nonfiction essays that are overflowing my brain. All these essays are best read with the proper inflection of literary magnificence with which I hear them in my head, and I must get them down before they escape out my earholes and I become ordinary once more.
A. For everyone whom I have ignored this week, I am sorry. I am not in crisis, nor have I fallen out of love with you. I just have all these pretentious essays about The Contents of my Purse, How It Feels To Make a Pie or Why Listening is Better Than Speaking Even Though I Never Listen roaming around in my brain.
B. For those whom I have texted this week, I am also sorry. I had the following text conversation just now.
Me (using voice text): do i have root play your ipod?
Me: Man voice text makes everything cryptic and i believe were dead.
Me: dad said i just leave were dead.
Me: on my C**T I am laughing so hard
Me: and thats even funnier because I tried to say Oh My God and it came out Oh My C**t.
Me: I was trying to say voice text makes things oddly worded! (I had to type this manually)
Friend: hahahahahaha you're killing me!
So I apologize if I did or did not send you a text today. I'm going back to my essays now.