Misfit is a word I have always really liked. Most people think of the band, the white face paint with the tongue out, punk rock, noise and neon. But to me, it’s just that something doesn’t fit. And not just that it doesn’t fit, but that it was SUPPOSED to fit. Like a mistake. Like a misfire. This thing was made to fit, but it is a misfit. Because that’s how I often feel. As if I should be capable of operating in a certain manner, but I just don’t. I’m not down for politics at work, the bullshit of meandering around what needs to be done so people don’t get upset. I mean, just fucking tell them so we can all be on the same page and move on with our lives. I don’t like fireworks that much. Like, ok, shit is blowing up in the sky, do we really need to set off our own in the street so we have to pick up the remains of the impotent attempt afterward. The god damned Halloween decorations. I mean, just give out candy on fucking Halloween. Even this, me writing every day, is a misfit. I don’t have the inspiration or juice to do this on the daily and have it be any good. It’s why most of it is depressing and whiny shit. Like me.