On Stairs and Symbolism

I could tell you about how whenever I’m printing something upstairs I stand halfway at the stairs to see if the printer downstairs will finally listen to my computer, which signifies that I am a hopeful person since the printer never does but I don’t want to let my hopes go up too high because I’m afraid of disappointment or some shit. I could tell you about how I run both upstairs and downstairs which symbolizes the way that I live my life, quickly and without looking back. I could tell you that this easily exhausts me, which shows that I have very little stamina in life and that I don’t go slowly nor steadily, but quickly and without worrying about the future. I could tell you that my brother takes the stairs one by one, carefully, much like how he solves his problems. I could tell you all of this, and more.

But I’m not a profound motherfucker, so I’m not going to bother. The only thing I want to tell you is that I fucking hate my stairs because whenever I run upstairs I trip at the top step because I’m clumsy and that always hurts and I’m always tired when I reach the top which makes me feel like I need to go on a diet that I’d fail anyway. The only thing the stairs mean to me is that I am not fit, godamnit. And considering my laziness, I probably will never be some the second Jillian Michaels. That’s fine by me – I like my 30% MORE! Lays right where they belong, in my stomach. ‘Sall good.