Sometimes I feel unproductive. Like, there are seventeen year old CEOs and nine year old Math geniuses and two sisters who sent a weather balloon into space and here I am, squatting in front of an electric fan and scrolling through feeds. What a shame. What a disgrace.
Then I think of Trump. And Jake Paul. And my brother, who has yet to get up from his puddle of blankets, and will probably get walloped within the next ten minutes.
I feel much better.
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