my mind is a screaming 3 year old. it’s possessed regan from the exorcist. it’s a hairy mercenary out for itself. luckily it only has a few tricks, and you know what? i’m on to those mother effers.
my mind’s 3 favorite scare tactics that keep me in a fetal fog are the following in no particular order: vivid images of people mutilating animals, total worry and grief about each passing moment and, my favorite, i’m fat.