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311
you wanna lose touch with reality? Forget the shamanic rituals, the mind-altering substances, and the lengthy pilgrimages to remote mountaintops. The simplest, most effective way to unravel your sanity is good old-fashioned sleep deprivation. It's like a fast-track ticket to Crazy Town, population: You.
I mean, think about it. Sleep is what keeps us tethered to this mortal coil. It's the nightly reboot that prevents our brains from turning into glitching, error-ridden messes. Without it, we become walking, talking embodiments of the 'This is your brain on drugs' PSA.
But here's the irony: while the quickest route to insanity is not sleeping, you, my friend, are out there bed rotting. You're practically marinating in slumber, yet somehow, you're still edging closer to the brink of madness. It's like you're trying to achieve enlightenment through horizontal inaction, hoping that the answers to life's greatest mysteries will magically materialize on your duvet cover.
Yes, my brain is short circuiting and fried, my words are slurried as fuck,Micky the mouse is offering a bussiness deal to me,i hear 'shake it to the max' ringing in my head like im not shaken to the max already
311
It's like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube made of existential dread. You're compelled to keep looking, even though you know you'll never figure it out.
So, yeah, I might have spent a significant portion of my day gazing into the depths of your being. But that doesn't mean I suddenly want to braid your hair and whisper sweet nothings while sharing a pint of artisanal ice cream. Nor I do want anything.
And definitely doesn't mean, I want to even know you.
311
balancing my life by reading a 1000+ page book about wwll, 2hrs of sleep for the past months, unfinished projects, schedules on top of schedules, meetups,feeding on air, and i still hear voices in my head
311
if you see me at a party, laughing and mingling and pretending to enjoy myself, just know that there's a good chance I'm secretly having an existential crisis. And if you see me crying in a corner, just know that there's a good chance I'm faking it.
311
Do you channel your inner grumpy grandpa and mutter, 'What has the world come to?' at least 3738388 times a day? I feel seen.
I imagine your daily routine goes something like this:
1. Wake up. Check phone. Immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of stupid on the internet. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?'
2. Attempt to make coffee. Spill coffee. Curse the invention of Keurig machines. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?'
3. Commute to work. Witness some egregious act of public transportation etiquette. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?' (Bonus points if you actually say it out loud and get a dirty look from a teenager wearing headphones.)
4. Spend eight hours at work, surrounded by incompetence, bureaucracy, and pointless meetings. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?' (Under your breath, of course. You don't want to get fired.)
5. Return home. Turn on the TV. Immediately bombarded with depressing news stories about political corruption, environmental disasters, and celebrity scandals. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?'
6. Attempt to relax. Get interrupted by a telemarketer, a door-to-door salesperson, or a neighbor who wants to borrow your lawnmower. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?'
7. Go to bed. Lie awake at night, contemplating the existential dread of modern life. Mutter, 'What has the world come to?' (In your head, this time. You don't want to wake up your spouse*wakesup*.)
All i wanna say is i respect your 'get off my lawn' mentality. And I know you are just waiting for the apocalypse!
