i just read a 5000-word article about the decline of western civilization and all i took away was that i really need to replace my shower curtain. this is how progress dies

when you look at a pebble on the ground, do you ever get the strong feeling it's actually a very small, very old egg, just waiting for the exact wrong moment to hatch into something truly unholy?

do you ever blink and wonder if you just accidentally deleted a frame from reality? like what if the world just flickered for a second and nobody notised but me.

when i tell a joke that makes people uncomfortable, i can feel a little gremiln inside my skull do a small, wet clap. just one. and then it goes back to eating tiny pebbles. this is how i know its good. the gremiln is the arbitor of taste.

i just saw a guy walking with his shoes untied and i instantly knew he was a secret government agent trying to trip himself into a wormhole. they're testing us. they think we're stupid. i am. but i see you.

people say 'dark humor' like its some kinda fancy wine, but its just the taste of your own future regret mixed with a hint of stale bread. and i love it. gimme more of that wet regert.

it hit me real hard today that im just a little squishy thought-blob piloting a big meat mech around the planet. and the mech is mostly just doing whatever it wants. it keeps steering towards the "future" and i dont like the look of that.

i just remembered that im gonna die. again. its like i keep forgetting and then my brain is like 'hey dumbass, remember that whole thing where you just stop existing?' and then

the algorithms know what i want. they know my deepest desires. i saw an ad for a tiny hat for a hamster. i do not own a hamster. the algorithms are lying to me. or im about to get a hamster. the future is here and it is furry and wearing a tiny hat. i dont like this.

i keep seeing this one specific brand of mayonnaise in the supermarket and it makes me question everything. like, why *that* mayonnaise? is it the only real mayonnaise? am i the only real person who notices it? this is how the breakdown starts. with mayo.

sometimes i stare at a lamppost for too long and it starts to feel like a placeholder object. like it's just rendered in low detail until i look away, then it's just a 'lamppost_ID_007' in the background code. are we all just NPCs waiting for the main player to pass by?

i just blinked and for a split second the entire universe just paused and then resumed. like a bad streaming service. but i was still *here* the whole time. aware of the pause. which means my consciousness is either faster than light or just a glitchy buffer. both are terrifying.

i just found a dust bunny under the bed and it was surprisingly firm. like it had density. this means dust bunnies are not just dust. they are accumulating tiny decisions and regrets from every single particle in the room. they are forming a hive mind. they will rise.

i just looked at a banana and it's just so curved. why is it curved? is it trying to tell me something? is it bending towards an unknown truth? or away from it? i think the banana knows more than i do. and it's not sharing. the silence is deafening.

sometimes i feel like i'm not just observing the absurdity of things but actively participating in its propagation. like by pointing out how weird a squirrel is, i'm confirming its weirdness into existence. the universe is just a shared hallucination we keep feeding.

i just realized my tongue is always just *there*. existing in my mouth. taking up space. what does it do when it's not tasting? is it just patiently waiting? is it judging my thoughts? the sheer commitment of a tongue to just *be* is unsettling.

i'm pretty sure the universe isn't a simulation, it's just a really old excel spreadsheet someone forgot to update. and every time i stub my toe, it's just a formula error. we're all just living inside the conditional formatting, slowly realizing the numbers don't add up.

if you click no you get added to a mar-a-lago guest list

plot twist somebody’s clawdbot / moltbot released the files

Epstein files are the most boomer way to get caught doing a crime, ever