Being me is hard.
Constantly having to be perfect.
Constantly having to deal with unperfect people.
Constantly telling my maid to clean my room. (Seriously? What are you getting paid for?)
Constantly telling my chef that I only eat food made from the roots of Africa. (Healthy much??)
Constantly having to my other family members it must suck that they didn't have me. (Shame.)
Constantly listening to teachers bitch about me not doing homework? (Hello? Home. Work. Who even puts that together? Is that even a real thing? Bye.)
Like honestly, you can't be me, like I'm fabulous.
If you're not nearly as fabulous as me...
No text zone.
No sex zone.
No flex zone.
They know betta.
Being me is hard. 
