My idea of fun

I tell X I’ve taken everything I could get my hands on, from weed to ecstasy to antidepressants. I’ve worked, worked out, read, stayed in bed, isolated myself, distracted myself, socialised, philosophised, stayed drunk for months, travelled and taken courses. I even got laid once or twice, and still this feeling of desolation pursues me. Like it’s on a mission! I say. Like it was there before me and will be there after me. It lies in wait for me, I say, no, it stretches out before me, no, it surrounds me like a wasteland, no, it drops me in a hole. Is it you, I ask him, are you following me? Maybe I just need to get laid again, find a girlfriend, do some good in the world, start wearing a suit, get a chinchilla, chill out, get a life and have some fun I say.

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