I Believe… [Timeshare in Hell]

...that we all died in 1997 and are now living in the collective purgatory of a Blockbuster Video’s fluorescent afterlife. That’s why everything feels familiar but broken, like a dream where your mom has Keanu Reeves’ face and keeps asking if you’ve “optimized your brand.”

... that capitalism is a casino rigged by drunk croupiers where the prize is a timeshare in Hell and the only way to win is to die with enough debt they can’t repossess your skeleton.

...that therapy is vital, but so is yelling at your microwave when it beeps passive-aggressively. Sometimes the only thing that stands between you and a complete psychotic break is telling Siri to shut the fuck up like she’s the ghost of every ex who ever asked you to “just communicate better.”

…that every inspirational quote is written by someone who’s never cleaned up the blood after a failed suicide and still thinks “Everything happens for a reason” isn’t just Stockholm Syndrome in a cardigan.

…that nostalgia is just trauma with a Snapchat filter, and anyone who says “those were the good old days” probably got away with something they should’ve gone to prison for.