Wholly Sun of Joseph Stalin!!
I just witnessed a miracle in real time. Time to recount it like 1, 2, 3
1. On the 5th of December at exactly 1207pm in a random student accommodation room in the slightly cloudy city of Melbourne, I, the lonely, anti-outside and chillingly unemployed twenty something went to the mirror to call myself a pathetic loser and look into the eyes of myself as I lied, once more like every other day, that I would grace my skin with the 'supernova of the outside'…only for myself to caw back!
2. I was like wooooooooow me! Never thought you'd caw back at me while I'm spilling out my guts in perfectly depressing English here. That's bad manners.
3. Me was like: Bird manors you mean
I was like: Mean. Me? Grossly anti-social, obsessively pro-shower and lukewarm sleeper yes, but not mean. Never mean!
Me was like: Meaning you're just gonna ignore the B-I-R-D manors, you.
I was like: You is wrong. Address me as I.
Me was like: I am you and you are me so you cannot just casually shrug off being you.
I was like: You are the recipient of a mirror call. I am the caller.
Me was like: Collar you are but I am the shirt. Keep defying me and I will discard you. A grandad shirt is still a shirt and it will still look good on me.
I was like: Meaning?
Me was like: Question not when you have the answer.
I was like: Answer me this; "Do I really look that old that a grandma shirt can look good on me?"
Me was like: Meme worthy question. No. Mim worthy question? Yes. Mim worthy judgement? Yes. Yes to a mimic that is.
I was like: Is that good or…
Me was like: Spanish. Mimir is a colloquial Spanish phrase for 'go to sleep' and Mímir or Mim is a beheaded Norse god…
I was like: …and?
Me was like: Question not the beheader, but his tools. I will behead you so go to sleep and in your dreams, do not question why you can no longer be anything but a headmaster. Please? Pretty please?
I was like: