Please stop me before I’ve begun. Please exit through the gift shop. Please help me unburden myself. I’m the part of the universe that woke up to see itself, a mystic brew of mumbo jumbo, crystal-cleansed, sage-dispelled, purified in a bath of Temu Purell. And so I inch one step closer to a complete and total breakdown of systems that should self-operate — ’cause I can’t leave well enough alone. Please stop me (before I’ve begun), please exit (through the gift shop). Please help me unburden myself from the deep inventory of things I picked up without a thought. Spoons spoons forks and swords, bowls boze armor potions. Spoons spoons forks and oars, crowns boards spoons a wrench! Something’s been weighing on me recently … I think it’s me. I follow a Twitter account that tells me which games let me pet the cat, run circles around the map, stabbing motherfuckers in the back, hoping I’ll find one to cuddle with before someone stabs me back. Is this the new normal? My deepest bond with a digitally caged animal — can’t refuse me, won’t abuse me, never speaks unless spoken to. Please hurt me until I can’t heal. Please tear open my hermetic seal. End this charade, burn down the promenade, give me something real I can feel. Razz ma tazz! Alacazam! Alligator Alcatraz! Epstein files — disappearing act! Video of a cat that never walked the earth, song made by a lonely girl hunched over a warmly glowing laptop. Please stop me before I’ve begun. Please exit through the gift shop. Please help me unburden myself from the deep inventory I picked up without a thought. Spoons spoons forks and swords, bowls boze armor potions. Spoons spoons forks and oars, crowns boards spoons a wrench. Something’s been weighing on me these days … I think it’s everything.
