Greetings terrestrial earth beings. Something about graduating college during a pandemic and my existential dread and working at Target made me decide to give in to my unsettling desire to write a shitty blog. What do I have to lose? I suck at making memes so this is the final frontier for a twenty-two year old fart like me. As an anxiety-riddled post-millenial, I thought maybe, just maybe, a blog could be the answer to all my internal woes. It’s like a therapist, but better because you don’t have to pretend like you’re doing better than you are because you’re scared they are secretly judging you from that leather chair, and you don’t have to cringe every time they say “uh-huh, so how do you FEEL about that?”. At least thats what I’m hoping. I bet you’re thinking, now I have to listen to this neurotic girl’s problems, I’m OUT, this seems like a little too much, too soon. But wait, wait! Hold on, stay here for just a sec. Okay, hear me out: I’ll make a deal with you, dearest reader. It’s true, I need you, but maybe you need me too. What if I can entertain you and give you a chuckle or at least a nice little opportunity to judge someone other than yourself for once? Besides, I know us Gen-Zers like to read stuff but not too much stuff. So, maybe I can give you enough reading to feel good about yourself that you read something today, but not so much reading that it feels like you’re back in college (not in the good way). How does that sound? Okay, beautiful. Ta, ta, until next time! 

xx 

CeCe Cherry Pie