Go and get a job. Go and find a flat. Find somebody else. Put them in the flat. Make them stay. Get a toaster. Go to work. Get on the bus. Look at your boss. Say “Fuck.”. Sit down. Pick up the thing. Go blank. Scream internally. Go home. Listen to the radio. Look at the other person. Think, “Why? Why did this happen?”. Go to bed. Lie awake! At night! Get up. Feel groggy. Put the things on - your clothes - whatever they’re called. Go out the door, into work - same thing! Same people. Again. It’s real. It is happening. To you. Go home again. Sit, Radio, Dinner. Mmm. GARDENING, GARDENING, GARDENING, death.
Dylan Moran (via charles-mans0n)
(via thecheshirecatx)
