Silage

They have mown the grass in the parks. Combined with heavy rain, it has the smell of silage. Suddenly, it is 1999 again.

I am putting on weight and zits at a considerable rate. I am reluctant to shave, despite widespread peer-pressure to do so. I am working on a task that is certainly ill-defined and might be endless. I have a job where I am the most educated and lowest-paid employee. Best of all, I have a heaping helping of anxious depression.

Honestly, all I need is a nametag that says RICHARD and a pretty girl that I can disappoint.