i. i’m used to accepting whatever they have in store without looking meticulously at the foil wrappers and front covers that flaunt themselves to the consumers so that they will be in demand.
ii. i’ve had enough of the bottle of bull— that slowly destroys my body and the sack of insincerity that i’d gladly paid at the counter because according to ads and other people, you’re a trusted brand.
iii. sometimes i wonder why you’re still full of you like there’s no expiration date for you, like you’ve preserved yourself inside the freezer that made you become what you are now, like you’re not afraid that people may replace you and eventually find something better.
iv. i soon realized that i don’t need a pack full of your judgments; i don’t need a cup full of your words that only gave thorns to my chest; i don’t need to put more of you on my push carts that I’m going to carry when i get out of this place.
v. in short, i need not you.
iv. and i think, that the thing i need is nowhere to be found in this supermarket.
/ gif from tumblr /
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perhaps — 