You sit in your “new” apartment, stewing on your emotions for a while. You take stock of Jared’s—YOUR—life, and the more you remember, the harder you cringe.
You dropped out of college after one semester and now you work part-time at a movie theater. Most of your money goes toward weed. Your grandparents pay your bills out of pocket, and they do it out of a sad, sad obligation. You have no talents or real hobbies to speak of other than complaining about music and smoking pot. You used to be a promising skateboarder, but then you remember that was when you were fourteen. All of the relationships have been with people a few years younger than you, still too naïve to realize what a fuck-up you are. You have a group of friends, but using your critical thinking skills, it’s not hard to realize these are people you were friends with in grade school who just hang out with you because you provide the weed. Jared basically did nothing with his life for a decade and then he gave it to you.
If anything, you look like an even bigger fuck-up than Jared did. Jared might have looked like a mess, but he was tall and skinny. You are 5’8” and flabby. Your wobbly little gut hugs Jared’s old, tight tank top in such a way you can see your whole belly button. Jared was also a tiny bit harrier than you used to be. A ring of hair surrounded your exposed nipples and a thick trail of hair went down your belly button down to your crotch. Sadly, your chest hair wasn’t as plentiful and it was just a thick triangle at the very center of your chest. Damn his wonderful hair. The luxurious mane of his hid his strange body hair. And it’s not like the mane looks good anymore. Jared’s hygiene habits followed you after the swap and it feels like you haven’t bathed in at least two weeks.
You tap your fingers and try to think of what to do. The stress of all of this is making your heart race. The man stole your entire life and all you have in exchange is weed and longer hair. Weed. You need weed. Right now. You reach for your bong. You instantly know how to use it like a pro. It takes you no time at all to get stoned out of your mind. All of your troubles fade away. This is fine.
Your head clears a few hours later. You look at your cracked phone to see it’s already 1AM. You have no memory of anything that happened after you had your argument with Jared, but the crumbs on the couch and the Dorito stains on your tank top might be a clue. You sigh, already knowing this is what the rest of your life is going to be. You’ll wake up, probably not shower, and then go to work for minimum wage at a job with a bunch of teenagers that think you’re soooooo cooooool when in actuality you’re soooooo laaaaaame. Then you’ll come back home and smoke a bowl while eating shit and pretending your opinions on Bob Marley matter.
Well, that’s not happening. You look at the ring and decide that it’s time for a change.