Episode Details

‘…is that a threat?'

‘Hm…'

If it was, it was at least a good one— I was scared, at first, upon seeing what I had thought to be perhaps a package robbery—but was actually just a slit through the package—a clean slice, more specifically, through the bubble wrapped [Redacted] package, however, its contents still inside; The package had been left underneath another—which didn't belong to me, and though I had been cornered by security more than once at the [Redacted] market, for putting my nutritional needs above that of my morality—or rather, thought my morlity to exclude guilt from the nessecities, especially as I often pondered upon the elite had kept the lower classes in a devolved state by controlling the price of wellness, so much so that it had become impractical for the common being. I had never even thought to swipe someone else's mail—a personal foul, and at least in turn in that matter to all respect with karma, had never had any packages stolen, either—not that I had lived indoors long enough to have warranted that I was safe from what sometimes seemed like the non-human animals, especially of New York City, who crawled about the lower realms littering and taking up precious time, space, and energy—the almost less-than-common man, but still, actually and unfortunately—common, especially in New York.

The Sage sticks and palo santo I had ordered were still intact, entirely— to my surprise, and I wondered what else my package might have included, without remembering such.

I had become enfuriated with [Redacted], after realizing that there had been hidden charges and unrecognizable fees, on my credit card, of all the places—the Capital One credit card, with sky high interest rates and robotic customer service drones—who I mostly would hate talking to— and it seemed as though the [Redacted] algorithm had become just as predatory as the rest of them—as uncivilized as the trash-dropping, coughing subhumans that plagued the post-pandemic world, if there was such a thing. The overcrowded mess and overall pollution of the city at whole at best made it still acceptable to wear masks in public, to which I took full advantage of doing, as needed—which was as often as possible, actually, if not to hide the curiosities, and of course, the objections to whatever it would be on the train that sparked distaste—worst yet, I might even smile, and reveal my gap-tooth, only acceptable on Hurley models and Madonna, of course—either of whom I wished I was.

It was 3:16 AM, and a long lost song found its way into my head as I fettered the words into the document, multitasking a “modest” breakfast as I mulled over the day, most of which I had spent attempting peace and solitude, neither of which actually even seemed attainable in my 3rd floor “office”, being so careful not to consider anything home or a comfort, for the fear that whatever Death curse someone had thought to m destroy me with once would extend into all the years and all the realms of my presence— it was true, as I explained to my aunt, that the people around me had within the last few years turned into demonic and vampiric advocates of what seemed to be the devil itself, were I even holy enough to be considered sacred in such a way that the devil may be chasing me—and I was, in some ways, but not in others—my ability to aggrandize my judgements and flex my morality where needed, but less when wanted as it stood true that I never actually enjoyed immorality—I hated living in a world where one would be made to steal, and made to lie, in order to survive. But that, for 30 years is where I had lived; in, for the most part, an evil world, ruled by man, as he denied and tortured all things that would be thought to be God—in his thirst for whatever it was that had waged a world of war.

It seemed as though someone were sending a message, and it had been years since I had felt safe or comfortabl