Me-centric angst dump Thought Catalog is like some superhuman internet time-wasting android, rotely performing ever more jaw-dropping feats of repetitive navel-gazing as we wait nervously for the moment that it will become self-aware and DESTROY US ALL.
Rest easy; self-awareness is not coming any time soon.
I don't like Kristen Stewart but it's not for the reasons you might expect. Instead of hating on her for her recent infidelity with her Snow White & The Huntsman director, Rupert Sanders, or the fact that she always appears bored and stoned in interviews, I don't like her based on the principle that she can't act her way out of a dime bag.
We're already well on our way to not caring about celebrities.
But beyond there being a general lack of salacious celebrity fodder today, I've lost interest in the drama simply because I stopped caring. When I found out that Kristen Stewart had cheated on Robert Pattinson, my knee-jerk response was, "So?" I mean, who gives a crap what Kristen Stewart puts in her mouth, unless it's a joint - in which case, hey girl hey! Being fixated on the lives of people you don't know seems bizarre and immature to me now.
This is a paragraph in an essay about celebrities.
Don't get me wrong, I still have certain celebrities that I will always delight in. Mary-Kate Olsen, Mischa Barton, Lindsay Lohan, Miley Cyrys, Courtney Love, TARYN MANNING, all the Real Housewives: your shenanigans provide me with so much joy. But everyone else? Go do drugs, make out, fall down in public. I don't care.
I don't know how much clearer he can be: He does not care.