He told me about pick up art. Picking up girls at clubs, how to talk to them, how to act, how to study it, how to perfect it. But I just have an emotional hangover. I should have had more scotch last night. These stories taste like disgusting medicine.
I choose an alternative path. I avoid love, fame, wealth, work. I seek knowledge, to live amongst the books and devour them one by one.
The likes. The late night texts. The stickers. Swiping right. I’ve always been hungry for love.