This image horrifies me. It
took me some time to understand. It took me some thinking. It’s not because of the reasons you might think. It’s not about the fact that the image is genuinely disturbing; I think we’re past that. It’s not because things like transgender people and single mothers and furries anger me. It’s not because of that fucking smile. It’s not because of those tears. It’s so much worse.
I feel like I know these people. I feel like we know these people. It feels
like I've never really known anyone else. We’ve grown up with them. They’ve been good friends. They’ve understood us when no one else has. That’s what makes this sick. It’s seeing your friends go hallow. It’s seeing them lose it all and laugh and cry about it.
We used to be happy. We used to be sad. These are normal emotions. But now? Now things are not going well. We’re devolving faster and faster. Accelerating. We’re dressing up as damned
clowns. We’re bleeding. We’re smug and for the wrong reasons. We look out the window and see slugs and rot. I want to go back to that photo hanging on the wall. I want to forget.
I don’t like seeing our friends become this. I don’t like becoming this. I should have known it would happen. I should have thought for one fucking
second about the consequences. The consequences of letting the cat out of the bag, the monkey out of the barrel, the mind out of the man.
This image is disturbing. It isn’t disturbing because it’s trying to be. It’s disturbing because I no longer find its literal contents disturbing. Our friends know this. They don’t give a damn. They do it anyway. They think they're funny.
I used to want off this ride. Not anymore. Now I’m scared of who’s waiting at the exit.