When I couldn't fall asleep last night and it was well after midnight when I decided on a verrrrrry short walk around the block
because I swear there's like shadows out there that shouldn't fucking be there, I started thinking about the things people
hide. Like in their houses, you know? The stuff you don't see, and the things that kind of get swept underneath the bed when people come over, or have their own dedicated spot elsewhere like that old plastic skeleton you and your brothers rolled up into an old carpets to freak out anyone who ever needs to get to working in our attic and gets just a little too curious, you know?
And then I couldn't stop thinking about it and everything got real sus and now I think I know how uncle Snake feels like when he gets going about the thisses and thatses and how two-headed calves are a portend of horrible things to come and we should just get the digger and expand the underground bunker right now, but you're probably not vibing with this at all?
Being curious about the physical stuff that people hide, that's what I mean. Not the paranoid thoughts.
Like everybody hides somethin'. And you don't even have to respond, but what was yours when you had a house or an apartment or a trailer or whatever back home?
[FILTERED TO THE UNALIVED-FORMERLY-DEAD-RESURRECTED-ETC] [TW IN COMMENTS: death, demonic possession, kidnapping, extremely questionable parenting, mentions of being buried alive]Okay uh. There's a good chance that I'm going to word this all wrong, but let's give this a shot.
I know there's a group that comes together to talk about stuff at least once a week , but dying feels like ... something for a different kind of group. I didn't think there was this many of us, but also enough of us it seems?
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