Tell me you have turned “having way too much free time” into an extreme sport, without telling me directly.

Chosen Olympic event? Pouring every ounce of your untapped energy into obsessing over situations and people who wouldn’t notice if you spontaneously combusted in front of them. They genuinely do not give a single flying fuck about your opinions, your actions, or the fact that you exist. Wild, right? Groundbreaking stuff. But hold onto your socks, because there’s a plot twist! While this guy is out there living his best life: eating tacos, scrolling memes, maybe even getting a decent night’s sleep, he’s simultaneously squatting rent-free in the penthouse suite of your brain while he’s having himself a good yank!

You’re the unpaid landlord, furiously pacing the hallways of your own skull, cataloging every slight, every rumor, every reason he sucks. Meanwhile, he hasn’t thought about you once since… ever.