Over the last few months, I have noticed some new things about myself. There was once I time when I would walk outside, smell the fresh air, stand in the sun, and feel good about life. But things have changed. I no longer look at the universe with the same sincere passion. I've forgotten the ways in which I used to find the untapped euphoria in the various nooks and crannies of my small world. I didn't know what was causing it. At first I blamed the cold weather, or the rainy days, or the person that looked back at me in the mirror. But it wasn't long before I realized the true culprits: That cringe infant and those disgusting old boomers from that nick show my little brother watches. I can't so much as crawl out of my bedroom without being forced to witness Ryan attempt to formulate English sentences, or the snorting of that pig he calls a father. And bro, it's not like I haven't tried to end it. I was desperate enough to try to get him hooked on frickin Team Umi Zoomi. But he always returns to this nauseating eyemelter, Ryan's Mystery Playdate. I suppose I'm doomed to an eternity of emotionlessness; a reality in which I may never again find the slightest indication of joy. Thank you, Ryan, for being the ultimate soul-rotting force that's driven my sanity off its rails.
Edit: My mom is the only human being over three years old that enjoys this show.
Edit: My mom is the only human being over three years old that enjoys this show.