In This World Of Everything Costing Too Many Dollars, The Colourful Bits Of Stiff Paper At The Hardware

Let's play hide and seek?

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

I made this high last night and I'm STILL laughing

(I bring a sort of “Everyone has inherent worth regardless of their productivity” Vibe to every conversation that ableists don’t really seem to like)

it’s cause you always on that borrowing grief from the future