You're living life, but it's such a drag.
The cigarettes. The job in the morning. The Attention Deficit Disorder Pills. The boner drugs and the bad sex and the migraines.
Indoor plumbing and all the malaise that accompanies it. Pets that hate you. Playground equipment designed to spay and lobotomize. The little daily futile attempts to hold on to something and make it yours. The Great Alarm.
The pathological comfort of the lower middle class existence, farming the softest and weakest individuals in history, so that eventually they may be exposed to the worst of torments.
One day you're at the library looking for some escapist pablum when you take a wrong turn into the Occult section and you decide fuck it, you're going to become a powerful magician.
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