Slava the Write

Pealing your clothes off you before you dump them all into the plastic bag that the person at the front desk of the hot yoga studio gave you, you put that bag into your Red Scare tote and walk outside ready to commit a crime. The mushrooms you microdosed an hour and a half ago are kicking in, and you take 20mg of thc to even out. The thc pills are the only thing you've eaten all day besides the chia seeds you put in your water in the morning. Rowdy rebel blares from the earphones, with that demonic video game loss screen music that accompanies a fivio foreign feature. This is what it feels like in the morning of the day you've waited for for 29 months.

It doesn't take much to snap back to reality. You find yourself in the room, everything around you familiar even though you're seeing it for the first time. It's the flow of how you got here, the patterns you synced with that you thought you forgot. All it took was a couple of swipes.