Hell, oh darkness my old friend.

What would be your hell on earth? Something that preys on all your worst fears? Endless exposure to pain? Or death by a thousand cuts? We’ve all got so many pet peeves that, when stacked on top of one another, could create an insurmountable obstacle. What would make life so not worth living that you’d rather see what the afterlife has in store?

A few months back I was living mine. Constantly on edge, waiting to hear back from any number of important calls. I’d applied for a multitude of jobs and wanted some form of acknowledgement that I’d been considered. So many applications, zero feedback. It was agonizing, left me riddled with anxiety over the coming future and the worth of particular life choices I’d made that brought me to that point. Then the hell started. Call after call, multiple times a day. With my phone on silent I’d feel rumblings in my pocket, then fumble to unhook my headphones and plug them into my cell. Call missed. Or if I managed to connect to the call I’d be speaking directly with a recorded message notifying me that I’d won a cruise to the Bahamas. Telemarketers, always. Not knowing the numbers, if there was a missed call that I tried to ring back, I’d be notified that I was called to participate in a survey, which had expired. Thing is, any media corporation worth its salt is gonna be using a private number, so I had no chance of calling them back. I started to openly resent my phone and the excess stress it caused me. I was strung out on a series of applications that left me hanging and it felt like the noose was tightening. So my hell on earth? To be ever waiting on an important call, only to get spam calls instead.

Ooh, this is kind of fun. Let’s see what else…

Nourishment, or a lack thereof. Eating food constantly, taking in the calories and getting none of the nutrition. You’re left hungry at all times, constantly craving more. No matter how much you eat you’re never satisfied. Those pangs just keep eating away at you while you keep eating yourself to death.

Having your skin replaced by finger nails all over. All firm edges, except for the cuticles which would be in a constant state of agitation. How much does one ripped cuticle piss you off? Imagine that’s all that you are.

Being incapable of drying off. You’re always wet, at least a little. Regardless of circumstance, you’re sweating, your nose is running, something spills on you. One thing after another, your only hope to feel any sense of normalcy is to live in an underwater tank. Then again, this does lend itself to fanciful Little Mermaid shenanigans, so it can’t be all bad.

Every television show you watch is replaced with snippets of the Star Wars Christmas Special ad infinitum. Alternatively I think this scene on repeat is what heaven feels like.

Whatever you wear feels too tight. Unless it’s tight enough to cut off your circulation. Then it feels comfy.

Your internal voice is replaced by Gilbert Gottfried.

Every letter you read looks like braille but feels flat to the touch.

People are incapable of understanding any method of communication you transmit. Gestures, words, writing, anything. You will never be understood by anyone ever again.

Birds suddenly find your skin irresistibly delicious. They can smell it through even solid concrete and will do anything in their power to get to you.

Every building seems like a terrifying living monster to you.

Nobody can remember who you are. Ever. Except for that creepy dude who touches himself at the back of the street car.

You become a vegetable. Specifically a yam. You have sentient thought but no way of influencing anything.

You’re stripped naked and placed in a public square. You’re kept alive, incapable of movement while any passers by are free to lick you anywhere as much as they want.

Anything with negative consequences happens to you as soon as you think of it. Non-lethal thoughts only. If you’re incapable of thinking happy thoughts, your best survival tactic is to constantly be thinking of your own death.

 

Wow, that got grim. Would you believe that venting all that negative stuff has just flooded me with positivity? Saturday night, people. L’chaim and all that!

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