I’m that awful in between where I’m not atrocious but I am hundreds of miles away from being good at art. It’s the worst place to be.
I used to pretend that I was good at driving and that everyone else was crazy but I’ve given that charade up. I’m a bad driver, okay? I know I’m bad and I don’t care. I hate driving. At least I use my blinker.
Talking on the phone
Talking on the phone is like waxing for me. I hate it but it’s necessary due to society’s ridiculous norms. If I had it my way, I would just send everyone I love a handwritten novel in the mail rather than call them and awkwardly ask about the weather.
I realized I wasn’t an enthusiastic person on my 14th birthday when I got an iPod from my parents and my mom started crying because I “wasn’t excited enough.” I was excited, I just don’t know how to show it. I can fake it if given enough notice.
Honestly, my makeup skills in general suck.
Not only am I bad at cooking but I also genuinely hate cooking. I enjoy baking. Do I understand why I like one and not the other? Nope.
I don’t mind being bad at video games most of the time because it makes my siblings laugh. However, every now and then I think it would be enjoyable to actually be good at them.
I’m out of shape but even if I was in shape I don’t think I would be very athletic. I’m too much of a klutz.
I don’t care what anyone says. My brain wasn’t programmed for math but I really do wish I was better at it.
Like, I wanna be one of those cool STEM bitches that are saving the world. But I’m just a dummy who gets spooked by numbers.
That’s all for this week. 🙂 Thanks for reading, friend.