You’re not a wreck, you’re just a girl in her 20′s…

“I feel like a wreck,” sobbed the blonde. “I spend too much money, I’m always late, there are crumbs on my floor, I’ve got parking tickets out the wazoo, and I can’t even keep up with my own laundry. There’s a pile of clothes on my closet floor deep enough for a human being to get lost inside. Sometimes I want to climb in.

Why can’t I just be organized?

I can only cook with the microwave. I think I’m addicted to the Internet. No, like legitimately addicted. There’s mustard on my shirt and my asthma hurts. Have you ever had a sinus infection?

Why can’t I just be normal?

I wish I could trust the other humans already… or at least figure out how to change my own shower filter. My hair is turning green from the chlorine. How do I fix that? The Internet says ketchup, but I think it might be wrong this time…

I feel like a wreck.”

“You’re not a wreck,” he said. “You’re just a girl in her 20′s.”

“… Like Lena Dunham…” she smiled.

“Who?”

“Nevermind. Bring to me my Youtubing machine.”