It can’t be good. Then again, it can’t be that bad either, because they’re not setting me on fire or tearing me limb from limb. I was so fucking certain they would too, and yet here I am, skipping past wrong street, licking a wrong popsicle in the middle of what-the-fuck-is-going-on lane. What’s worse is I can’t seem to escape this fucking place no matter what I do.
