Please Fuck off and Die

I don’t want to invite you to my home, let you drink my wine and listen to your opinion about my life, my lover, my lack of a carreer. I don’t want to pick up the phone, talk about the weather, about your depression, about my depression, about the dog’s depression. I don’t want to host parties, entertain guests, have a life, create, cook, iron, shit, eat, breath.