You know what’s sad?

I haven’t laughed at anything in weeks.

I mean, I DO laugh. It’s not like people tell me jokes and I just stare at them with my cold, dead eyes like a sociopath. But I’m just being nice. I’m not really laughing.

Ya know?

It’s unfortunate because I’ve always wanted to try stand up comedy. But I don’t know what’s funny anymore. All I’d do is go up on stage picking my nose and scratching my ass saying “you know, I was taking a shit the other day and was thinking: ‘do fish sleep?’”.

I just don’t have a sense of humor anymore.

But then I’d hear about my co-worker getting temporarily paralyzed due to constipation from heroin addiction and I go “lol! That sucks man.”

Is that how bad things have gotten?

I vaguely remember hearing about World War 1 soldiers taking up a morbid sense of humor to help them cope with the death all around them. But this isn’t a war zone. Mangled bodies and tear gas doesn’t surround me.

It’s boredom. Long, perpetual boredom. And the deep existential vacuum, deep in my soul, that has sucked up all joy and laughter that occupies the precious moments between birth and death.

That, and Cum Town.

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