Can You Tell Me How To Get, How To Get To Pessimist Street?

Oh hello debilitatingly negative anxiety, how are you?

Awful. I’m filled with inexplicable pains that are probably caused by dick cancer and I just know the world is going to end tomorrow. Or Friday if the stores are closed.

Um, ok. Is there a reason things seem so bleak right now?

Everything. The whole of existence is a reason to feel bleak, you idiot. We are born to die. We eat food to poop it out and create tiny haemorrhoids on our butts as we do so a few hours later. We have dicks so they can get cancer and fall off. All is awful.

But it’s sunny today…

…face cancer.

Your favourite show is on later…

…bound to get cancelled by an uncaring network.

Look, there’s a cute puppy.

I’m allergic to cuteness, it makes my dick fall off.

We could go for a walk.

Oh that’s what ‘they’ want you to do. Yeh, walk around pretending everything is ok and that endorphins are great when in reality everything is awful and endorphins make your heart beat so fast your dick falls off even if you’re a woman.

So what do you want to do?

I want to rot in this corner being terrified of everything.

Ok man, your call. Want anything from the store?

Cornetto. And a new dick. They won’t have either, of course.


About planetish

planetary ish
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