Killing Me Softly

I want to introduce you to something that kills me. It's when people say something jocularly or like it's an absolute fact that everyone knows, but only it's not a fact, and it depresses my goddam pants off. It's as if, in casual conversation, the person talking to me takes child safety scissors out of her hand bag and drives them, as nicely as possible, into my chest.

Annie and I made up some examples:

Man, if one more of these soccer players takes his shirt off, I'm going to have to have sex with my husband.

I wish I didn't have to live anymore, but I don't want to, you know, kill myself.

If he were any more attractive, I'd have to brush my hair.

If I were anymore racist, I would write for ESPN.

I really wanted to lose weight so I had all my teeth pulled.

She's so funny for a girl.

I really wanted to lose weight so I started drinking light beer.

If God really wanted me to have a boyfriend, he would have put a vagina on my face.

Only those who can afford a luxurious life deserve it.

Happiness is really only for people who have souls.

I really like girls, but all the hot ones have eating disorders.

Women are intimidated by high expectations.

Choosing joy: because happiness isn't enough.

"I should probably get out of bed." "No, don't. It's over-rated."

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