I’m working on my writing.

[Day 213] “Corey asked me if I liked the same lamp she asked me about at least 50 times so far. I said I thought it looked great. Her response? “mmm nah it doesn’t go with the couch.”

Those words now burned into my very soul.

I no longer recognise myself in this moderately priced mirror whose name I can’t pronounce.

I see the withdrawn, hopeless faces of other men, trapped in this labyrinth of cheap modular furniture carrying bundles of tealight candles.

We don’t even use them.

What did we do to deserve this fluorescent hellscape?

What collective sin did we commit that we are doomed to wander listlessly, aimlessly, in this purgatory. Our opinions requested, yet also ignored?

I beseech her to stop so we can get something to eat, only to hear: “we’re almost done”. Oh how I yearn to believe that.

I whisper a quiet prayer, begging for salvation from this recursive nightmare of indecision.

What great act of reparation must we enact to escape with our lives and minds intact?

I keep my spirits alive, knowing that GTA 6 is coming out soon, and looks fucking sick.

May God have mercy on our souls"