Due to the invasion of Earth by invisible, weightless aliens that only I can see or sense who have entrusted me with a solemn duty I’m unable to disclose, I will not be turning in my homework on time.
I cannot make it to the party because I’ve developed a sudden and severe anaphylactic allergy to being looked at, by anyone or anything. I’m calling it eye-hives. H-eye-ves, maybe.
My hair smells very good today, so I’ve decided to dedicate all afternoon to inhaling the aroma in order to stabilize my conception of self, instead of going to my therapy appointment.
The rideshare app I use doubled its prices, and I became suddenly and cripplingly aware of the weight of late capitalism resting on the shoulders of my generation, so you’ll have to go on the hike without me.
The ghosts haunting my apartment complex saw me watching LOST compilation clips on YouTube and made me explain the ending to them, which took up most of the evening, so I won’t have the report ready for Friday.
I can’t attend the dinner because I’ll be too busy going through the hundreds of forgotten-about contacts in my phone, coming across ones who draw up tender and bittersweet memories, and letting the terror of time passing without my consent suffuse my system.
My favorite cafe changed their seating layout, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to come to the movies with you, as I’ll be staging a one-woman protest on the street outside, holding a sign demanding the corner booths brought back.
I’m just really tired. Sorry!
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