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stream of concious writing coming through.
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>Be you.
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>December 2020
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>you've kind of wanted to die since april.
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>y'know...
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>because of the thing.
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>You work retail so that makes it worse.
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>quietly sit alone in apatment.
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>stare at ceiling
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>don't remember last time you saw someone not family or a coworker
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>fuckit.jpeg
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>make a phone call.
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>say a few codewords to the dude on the line
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>get "Him" talking to you
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>Tell him you need a fucking break and something new.
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>He tells you to meet him at the abandoned bowling alley in two hours.
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>spend the next hour pacing before grabbing your coat, mask, and keys.
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>drive across town.
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>He's waiting for you.
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>haven't been in the bowling alley since it got raided.
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>it's had it's grand re-opening twice since then
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>he leads you into the back.
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>Graffiti is everywhere.
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>rotted stuff toys
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>empty water bowls.
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>he hands you a small pill container.
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>tells you it's "The New formula"
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>What are they calling it?
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>GRFN
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>open container, joints.
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>wat.png
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>tells you it "runs through the system faster" when inhaled.
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>make a comment about being worried about lung disease
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>he tells you to stop being a bitch before tossing you a zippo with a yin-yang symbol on it.
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>Sit down on a moldy couch.
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>light up.
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>inhale.
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>never done weed or anything like that, don't know if you're doing it right.
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>hold it in for a few seconds
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>cough out a slightly pink-ish smoke
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>concern.
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>repeat the process until it's easier.
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>melt into couch.
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>metaphorically.
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>I know what thread I'm writing for.
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>you look up at the dealer and go "how do I know it's work...oh."
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>full blown
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>all over
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>body itch.
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>thanksIhateit.jpg
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>realise you've basically inhaled the whole blunt
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>the melted feeling turns into a weird "rebuilding" feeling as you look at your hands, blending together and reshaping."
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>shoulder blades are screaming at you
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>thought this shit would make you sleep through the change
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>Scream at dealer.
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>The noise that comes out of your mouth is something mixed between a loud, ugly, orgasm, and the sound equivalent to a dog having it's leg stepped on
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>pretty sure your legs ripped your pants to shreds
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>yell at dealer to "fucking do something!" in a voice that grows increasingly feminine as your swollen body parts shrink, ripped clothes becoming baggier than you're used to as you roll on the couch.
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>pretty sure your dick is gone.
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>accidentally throw yourself off the couch.
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>hit the back of your head
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You are dreaming.
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Calm.
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Your dancing with a cute pony to a very lively recording of swing music playing out of a record player.
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Your wings flap with the rhythm a bit every now and again.
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She smiles at you.
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You smile are her.
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You kiss each other on the dance floor.
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>You Wake up
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>the dealer is a man of culture and has you loosely bundled up in a soft blanket.
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>slowly push yourself up.
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>Claws.
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>paws.
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>long tail.
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>This is your brain on GRFN
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>Dealer notices your awake
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>helps you off the couch
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>walks along side with you to a mirror propped against a wall in another room.
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>You look like some mix between a Snow Oil and a Persian cat.
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>kinda nice.
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>Dealer picks you up.
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>carries you back to room with couch
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>you both chill there for hours.
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>third dude brings burger king
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>chill with fries.
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>sleep over at bowling alley
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>for the first time in forever sleep without an ounce of depression or existential fear.
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>wake up next day as your old self
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>shake hands with dealer while saying thank you.
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>agree to another meeting
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>go home
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>watch pony show.
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>for first time in a very long time
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>All is right with the world.
by emmens
by emmens