I've decided to outsource the overwhelming anxiety I've been feeling of late. I can't decide if China or India would be the right choice for my anxiety. Whom we will call Steve.
My anxiety's name is Steve.
I fucking hate Steve! Steve needs to go! Steve, you're killing me!
Steve!
You need to go to India, Steve. Put your less than 3 ounce liquids into a quart bag and head out of Terminal E on a jet plane!
Steve is super attentive to me. He likes to hang out next to me in the early hours of the morning so he can be right fucking there when I wake up.
I think some of you know Steve, too.
I remember there was a stretch of a couple years when Steve hung out with other people. But he's back and, for the last 2 weeks, he's been kind of a super hero in his devotion to me.
Super Steve!
