"Don't you want kids?" "No thanks, I just ate."

I just turned 31 years old. When I look back on my life thus far, "successful" and "fulfilled" are not words that jump readily to mind. Having slogged through my twenties suffering with undiagnosed, untreated mental illness, I waffled on many decisions that would affect the rest of my life and as a result I missed many opportunities. I realize that the window of time to rectify all this will close eventually, and I'm dealing with this to the best of my ability. But there is one major life decision with such a finite timeline that I made years ago with no second thoughts: not having kids.

Facebook Fuckery: Moral guilt fail edition

Admit it. You stop for a minute when you see these things, taking the moment to assess how much you truly value the most important things in your life. You're presented with a conundrum: do you REALLY love your mom/cat/God/sandwich as much as you SAY you do? Well you have just been given the perfect test. If you "like", you're in the clear and probably won't go to hell, at least not for this particular thing. But if you just keep scrolling...well, you've clearly underestimated your love. You've been lying all this time, not only to yourself, but to your family, your pets, your Lord, and your lunch. You bastard.

I bet you're all kinds of pissed now. "But I love my mom/cat/God/sandwich," you say. "I do I do I dooooo...! This is just some stupid shit on Facebook posted by someone with not enough to do. Fuck this shit." I feel your pain, I do. But I also know you feel a weird little awkward twinge of guilt right now for scrolling, like the bastard you are. It's a sign of the times, and I don't like it any more than you do, I assure you. But the writing's on the wall: when you scroll, you might as well put laxatives in your Mom's tea, punch your cat in the face, piss on a Nativity scene...eh, I suppose you can eat the sandwich. But I should warn you, there's a pubic hair in there somewhere. You bastard.