moldy gravy wrists

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙♰ʚ♡ɞ♰˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

i try to crack my knuckles in between tearing movie tickets at work. they rarely actually pop, but it soothes me in the way that it soothes me to ask somebody to press on my bent wrists for me. i will position my hand like a t-rex and tell them to push. it makes my wrists feel how my head feels when i scroll on short-form video content for too long and i think "stop stop stop stop stop" but i don't stop and instead i just keep scrolling and my brain feels like i dropped a potluck-sized room temperature container of brown gravy on it and it leaves an obnoxious brown stain and as it seeps into my prefrontal cortex my kidney is just pointing and laughing like "haha bro it looks like you just shit yourself" instead of helping clean it up so now it is just molding molding molding. shapes and colors and a strange orange microbiome living in a mug you left cranberry juice in and the more it grows the more scared you are to clean it so it just sits. months after you finally clean it out you still won't use the mug because you're scared a microscopic organoid will end up in your left lung and grow eyes or maybe even a nose and now you have to be insecure about how the inside of your lung smells.

my wrists start to feel like this when i play fortnite festival and then all of my 1 friends are upset with me because i couldn't last 3 rounds without contracting gravy wrists. moldy gravy joints. stupid stupid stupid. when i press my fingers and they pop, it's so tuff. when they don't, it's like 10 horses running in a field and 3 of them are babies running behind the herd. they will grow up to become the golden trio of somebody's fantasy storybook about horses. and the hero won't even get the girl. the mare. the lady horse. this is actually just like harry potter if it were horses. what a lovely friend group kinda. i wish i could foster relationships with people the way i foster the relationship i have with popping my knuckles when i'm scared. but i keep getting distracted by sounds and colors and picking at the skin on my lip until it bleeds. and my friends lose interest in me quickly because all i ever have to say about my life is "been getting into undertale lately." this doesn't fare well when your friends only talk to you until they lose romantic interest in you, which they just did, because you just brought up undertale.

everyone around me is making strides towards their future and i am excited about buying a new binder for my pokemon cards. "guess what everybody," i say stupidly and dumbly and moronically, "i got a new binder for all my shiny cardboard but it's not really even a great binder it's just a mediocre one. also i'm 20 years old and i've never been to the doctors." and then i get tachycardia so bad it sets off a heart monitor that i'm not even wearing, because my doctor didn't give me one, because i don't have a doctor, and then i get visibly faint for a few seconds and my eyes glaze over while i'm transported to another reality inside my head where i see the andromeda galaxy and a bear wearing rollerskates and then i come back to reality and say "haha guys that was so weird wait."

even my manager who once referred to my headphones as my "autism 3000s" is going off to pursue his dream as a park ranger this summer. i pretended to laugh, and he's going to yellowstone. such is fate. of course i will wear my headphones when i use the leafblower. the leafblower sounds like every soul of the damned twisting and begging and screaming in my ear all at the same time as their hideous underkeeper in a ralph lauren polo yells at me, "look at what you've done, you've gone and made them wicked again!" and i'm yelling back "no!!! no it wasn't me i didn't do it! you've got the wrong guy!" as they all tear me apart limb from limb not unlike hades' sendoff at the end of disney's hercules. fireworks aren't great either. my mom's boyfriend lit half a stick of dynamite with no warning one fateful day in early july (maybe you could even guess which one) and i just started throwing glass. i wish i had my autism 3000s back then, or the emotionally regulatory skill of trying to pop the same joint 20 times in 1 minute. probably without these things i would still be throwing glass.

this is starting to read like a tight five. my peers are off to national parks. and my dream? i wish i had an adult pogo stick. i could do it with no hands as a kid and it is my lifelong goal to wear a clown suit and pogo around while playing a stringed instrument. i used to daydream about doing it for the talent show in elementary school. this is not surprising at all to anyone who has ever been in a room with me for more than 8 consecutive seconds, for that is enough time for me to pull a harmonica out of my bag and start playing it for no good reason. oh how they'd cheer. it would always end in a crowd dive. i always won the jump rope and hula hooping contests in gym class because my motor skills as a 7 year old were truly unrivaled. after i left that school the principal started hosting unicycling lessons for students. i visited after graduating high school and the hall was lined with 20 mini unicycles. do you ever feel like you've missed your calling?

Published by ♰༻salem༺♰

moldy gravy wrists

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