My Nightly Video Queue

Who needs porn when you get off on self-loathing?

Photo by Mathilde Langevin on Unsplash

Every night before bed, I settle under the covers and shiftily pull up YouTube.

What shall it be tonight?

These days, I want to feel degraded on an existential level. I am a desperate little slut, and for so many more things than just human touch. I’m a slut for recognition, praise, esteem (self- and otherwise). For job interviews, a chance to look smart, and really any kind of label I can rattle off at a party without immediately needing a shot. A true millennial, I’m full of baseless narcissism, and I crave the company of Internet strangers who I know will take me down a peg. It’s 2021, and there have never been more such strangers ready and eager to lock my eyeballs in place and do just that.

So first off, I’m on the hunt for some hot and sweaty motivational speeches. I’m a cliche, I know, but Elon Musk lecturing me with that smug little smile he has about how easy it is to run multiple businesses all while reading and learning avidly all while raising a child all while deep-throating six investor cocks all at once always just does it for me.

Now that I’ve decided on my nightly self-reprimand for not being a bite-sized, Buzzfeed-worthy little success story as of yet, I need to zero in on why I fear that will never change. As such, I begin to browse…