Late twenties.

Fuck my life— seriously?
Is a catchphrase in itself, no?
Quasi-ninetofive, lacklustre dreams;
Goingwiththeflow, livingmybestlife, etc—
Addicted to uploading, addicted to sharing,
Struggling with the whatdoyoudooutsideofwork’s?
Creative for the ‘gram; artistic for the sheer chic of it;
Conversation only pesters shortened attention spans, no?
Feel free to speak with a lil’ depth, if it doesn’t hurt too much.
Jesus fucking christ: emotional intelligence is scarce these days, no?
Walking, traveling or eating do not fucking count as fucking hobbies.