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stream of concious writing coming through.
>Be you.
>December 2020
>you've kind of wanted to die since april.
>y'know...
>because of the thing.
>You work retail so that makes it worse.
>quietly sit alone in apatment.
>stare at ceiling
>don't remember last time you saw someone not family or a coworker
>fuckit.jpeg
>make a phone call.
>say a few codewords to the dude on the line
>get "Him" talking to you
>Tell him you need a fucking break and something new.
>He tells you to meet him at the abandoned bowling alley in two hours.
>spend the next hour pacing before grabbing your coat, mask, and keys.
>drive across town.
>He's waiting for you.
>haven't been in the bowling alley since it got raided.
>it's had it's grand re-opening twice since then
>he leads you into the back.
>Graffiti is everywhere.
>rotted stuff toys
>empty water bowls.
>he hands you a small pill container.
>tells you it's "The New formula"
>What are they calling it?
>GRFN
>open container, joints.
>wat.png
>tells you it "runs through the system faster" when inhaled.
>make a comment about being worried about lung disease
>he tells you to stop being a bitch before tossing you a zippo with a yin-yang symbol on it.
>Sit down on a moldy couch.
>light up.
>inhale.
>never done weed or anything like that, don't know if you're doing it right.
>hold it in for a few seconds
>cough out a slightly pink-ish smoke
>concern.
>repeat the process until it's easier.
>melt into couch.
>metaphorically.
>I know what thread I'm writing for.
>you look up at the dealer and go "how do I know it's work...oh."
>full blown
>all over
>body itch.
>thanksIhateit.jpg
>realise you've basically inhaled the whole blunt
>the melted feeling turns into a weird "rebuilding" feeling as you look at your hands, blending together and reshaping."
>shoulder blades are screaming at you
>thought this shit would make you sleep through the change
>Scream at dealer.
>The noise that comes out of your mouth is something mixed between a loud, ugly, orgasm, and the sound equivalent to a dog having it's leg stepped on
>pretty sure your legs ripped your pants to shreds
>yell at dealer to "fucking do something!" in a voice that grows increasingly feminine as your swollen body parts shrink, ripped clothes becoming baggier than you're used to as you roll on the couch.
>pretty sure your dick is gone.
>accidentally throw yourself off the couch.
>hit the back of your head

You are dreaming.
Calm.
Your dancing with a cute pony to a very lively recording of swing music playing out of a record player.
Your wings flap with the rhythm a bit every now and again.
She smiles at you.
You smile are her.
You kiss each other on the dance floor.

>You Wake up
>the dealer is a man of culture and has you loosely bundled up in a soft blanket.
>slowly push yourself up.
>Claws.
>paws.
>long tail.
>This is your brain on GRFN
>Dealer notices your awake
>helps you off the couch
>walks along side with you to a mirror propped against a wall in another room.
>You look like some mix between a Snow Oil and a Persian cat.
>kinda nice.
>Dealer picks you up.
>carries you back to room with couch
>you both chill there for hours.
>third dude brings burger king
>chill with fries.
>sleep over at bowling alley
>for the first time in forever sleep without an ounce of depression or existential fear.
>wake up next day as your old self
>shake hands with dealer while saying thank you.
>agree to another meeting
>go home
>watch pony show.
>for first time in a very long time
>All is right with the world.