Last night was one of the worst nights of my life hands down. Seriously it ranks right up there with the ’06 NLCS Game 6. The reason being I do not like things I can’t explain. When Endy Chavez makes one of the greatest catches in baseball history, and the Mets go on to lose the game, there’s no logical explanation for that. And then last night the interwebs exploded with a picture of a fucking dress. I’m not going to say which colors I saw because it doesn’t matter. I looked at that picture like 10,000 times, and now I think I’ve gone retarded, no joke. I was turning my brightness up, tilting my phone on its side, squinting like a real asshole.
Originally I thought everyone was fucking with me, just picking one side or the other to collectively torture me. This dress is unexplainable. I read some garbage about your emotions deciding which colors you see, some of the smelliest bullshit of all time. My eyes are perfect. When I go to the doctor, we skip the eye test. Gods honest truth. There’s no need for it, the nurse and I both know my eyes aren’t broken. I don’t like being asked trick questions. I don’t like being fooled into some INFURIATING social experiment that doesn’t have an answer.
I couldn’t sleep last night because of this. I had some fucked up dreams, man. Now that I’ve calmed down and collected my thoughts, recharged the batteries, and stabilized my emotions, I can take a more rational and reasonable approach to this. I don’t need other people to tell me whether what I’m seeing is right or wrong. My thoughts are my own. My opinions or my opinions. This was the last thing I needed going into the weekend. My brain is complete mush.