Every morning feels the same to me: I make my smoothie with just a little pick-me-up added, and suddenly those repulsive eyeballs are glaring at me from my reflection on a kitchen knife and look man, I’m a writer. A typewriter. Like, an actual machine, I think. Wait! What’s that sound? Orange?! They know I HATE that fucking sound …
Oh, the microdosing. Yeah, my dealer ran out of LSD but still had some PCP and said it was similar and now I feel like GOD. Some yoga website told me it would help me focus and work harder and help me focus and work harder and work focus and help harder and help me focus work harder I think it’s working.
I smoke a little dust every three days just to keep my brain alert. Alert to them. I used to see them when I was on dust, but now I don’t see anything without my eyes. Did I say three days or three hours?
I couldn’t resist, those scissors had the most inviting sound. They sounded like sky blue. I can still hear the sun shimmering off the freshly sharpened silver blades from when I set myself free from the disgusting visual overload of holy fuck I will set you all free if I can only find my knife.
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Ya know when you’re being chased by a sadistic lawn flamingo and you’re definitely running at full speed to get away but you’re actually at your kitchen table struggling to eat your cereal with a straw? I feel SAD for people who go through life without trying to heighten their senses. I feel SORRY for people with eyes.
My boss will be so proud when she sees I finally started taking initiative. They’ll all start to respect ol’ Sherman Gruthe. Yeah! I’ll show all of ‘em! As soon as I remember how to stand up and what the hell? Is that, blood?! Wait, what happened to where are my eyes? Oh, fuck, oh my god I’m not sure I can go back to the office like this.