Feel the Pain — er, Rain

No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Why I must be assaulted with this vapid song every time I set foot into Kroger is anyone’s guess. Who is this woman? Who allowed her to sing? Will someone please stab her in the eye with a fork?

No one else can feel it for you

This lyric is really too stupid for commentary.

I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined…
I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines

Oh NO. On top of it all, she’s one of those. I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a rulebreaker, I am 21 flavors and then some, I never win first place, my socks are never clean. I want to color outside the lines, they love to tell me to color inside the lines, I do color outside the lines, I won’t color inside the lines.

Thanks to these radicals, the fucking coloring book is ruined. How dare they.

She’s a unique snowflake. Sometimes she shaves her legs, sometimes she don’t. She’s the kind of girl who takes a second dose of Tylenol before the four hours is up, who might switch laundry day from Tuesday to Wednesday, who bites into an apple without even washing it first. MY GOD! STOP HER!

Oh, I forgot. No one cares.

But more importantly, what is this trendy backlash against imagined foes who would have teenage girls smelling fewer roses? Where are these lines they must color inside? Who has stepped up and demanded they take more calculus II classes? Don’t we have the opposite problem?

Go out and stand in the rain, Natasha, especially if it keeps you out of the studio.