Call it a midlife crisis. Call it a justifiable reaction to what reality around me has become. Call it a complete breakdown of my mental well being. Just don’t call it a comeback. There’s no coming back from this.
I figure I’ll just let go. Go into the light. I’m still alive, but mentally I’ll be already gone.
Weeeeeeee!!! Let’s fall down on the ice again, and explode into a million pieces, and eat some rock candy! That’s not candy! It’s my toe! That’s what Joe Walsh used to say. Smoooooooke on the water…a pencil in your eye…
stares blankly at a wall
That leprechaun smells like toast.
you go look for that purple banana. You deserve it.
It’s no measure of health to be adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
Go crazy, it’s the sanest option by far.
Username sort of checks out
I think I’ll join you, if that’s okay. Sanity is overrated in times like these.
Welcome to the club. There is a membership fee. Your sanity. And one cheese sandwich. Payable henceforth to Jacob the cheese god dog. He’s a god, but also a dog. He loves cheese sandwiches, and I figure you could make a religion out of this!
But I only have a hundred ducks in a line?
My religion is absurdism, so not a religion! Can your religion have a god cat too?
(Absurdism isn’t absurd at all, it’s actually quite neat).
I have no idea what thoughts or emotions you’re trying to convey. Kind of just sounds like the mindless ramblings of a crazy person. Which means OBVIOUSLY you’re in! Also, please give me 100 ducks. I’m going to find someone who makes duck helmets, and duck military outfits, and we’re going to storm the beaches of Petsmart! FOR FREEEEDOOOOMMM!!! Quack quack quack quack quack! OH FUCK!!! THE DUCKS HAVE GUNS AND THEY’VE GONE ROUGE!!!
Quack!
I mean, I’m on!
Okay I love cheese, so I’m already a fan. Best membership I’ve had since pre-ads Netflix.
