So there’s this guy Jake. He just turned 30, and now he’s going on about “eliminating bad habits” and “building a healthier daily routine.” What the hell does that even mean? I’ve been watching him all week, and I still can’t wrap my head around it.
Look, let’s get one thing straight: self-improvement is just another lie sold to suckers who haven’t accepted their miserable fate yet. You’re either born with a silver spoon and a winning personality, or you’re like the rest of us—finding new rock bottoms faster than you can say “help.”
Take Jake for example, this delusional 30-year-old who thinks he can actually “better himself.” He wants to kick his drug habits? Please. Has he even been to an NA meeting? Those places are just dealer networking events where the dealers are extremely reluctant and sometimes might even cry. His brilliant alternative? “Cutting back.” Oh sure, because that always works. What ever happened to our Meth and Mushroom Monday’s? Tar Tuesday’s? Isolating yourself socially is a pretty bad habit if you ask me, how else would we even speak if he doesn’t show face to Salvia Sunday with the boys before half price wings at Hooters.
And get this – the next thing on Jake’s self-improvement list? Reading more novels. Sorry to break it to you, Jake, but Pornhub comments and 4chan conspiracies are all you’ve been reading since 8th grade. I saw him staring at a book yesterday. Just… staring at it. Is that reading? Is the book supposed to do tricks or something? He kept saying things like “I feel smarter already” and “This is really working.” Working how? You’re just doing random shit and pretending it means something, just watch, next week he’ll just ask AI to summarize the rest in a few sentences.
I don’t know, maybe I’m missing something here. But from where I’m sitting (which is on my couch, where I’ve been for the last 72 hours), this whole “self-improvement” thing looks like a bunch of pointless actions strung together by wishful thinking and delusion.
Anyway, I’m off to do some “self-care” of my own, which involves a family-size bag of chips and a porn site binge in which afterward, I’ll rethink pretty much everything I’ve ever done or said before gulping those thoughts back in to never be brought up again and passing out.