Why can’t I always remember to be content and grateful? I have so much to be grateful for. I have my tween literature obsessions properly under control. I recently got a cloak as a gift. I haven’t peed myself on a trampoline in weeks.
Seriously, though. I resent the self-absorption that leads me to believe that all cops are watching me, and all of my problems are ginormous. All cops are watching me, but still. It’s because of my cloak. It’s just so rad.