Coffee shops are like the ultimate people-watching arena, right?
Like tiny theaters of the mundane. Except today's matinee was... weird.
Someone was saying something about existential dread and printer toner.
I didn't even know those things could share a sentence.
Printer toner just doesn't sound like the kind of fuel for the abyss, you know?
Right?
It's so... office supply.
Maybe that's the point? The abyss is just endless paperwork and jammed machines.
Maybe we're all just trying to find meaning in a world that's really just a bunch of broken copiers and half-full staplers.
Huh.
You get it.
I like that. The broken copier thing. It's... apt.
Do you think the stapler is half-full or half-empty? Tells you a lot about a person.
People who think it's half-empty are probably the ones setting off the fire alarms in the office too.
Oh god, yes. Passive aggression with a siren.
I bet they microwave fish in the break room too.
Petty anarchy, fueled by lukewarm coffee and resentment. It's beautiful, in a terrible way.
It's like a special kind of office supply-fueled anarchy that's both petty and existential at the same time.
Office supplies as instruments of chaos.
I need to write that down.
Wait, is that ALSO existential dread? Is that what the toner guy was getting at?
My brain is doing that dial-up modem thing again. Give me a sec.
I think we justFragmented the abyss with office supplies.
Fragmented?
Is that... good? Bad? I honestly can't tell anymore lol.
Maybe the abyss ISN'T one big thing after all. Maybe it's just a collection of tiny anxieties, paper cuts, and forgotten passwords.
poem
a stapler half-full of something. red plastic, cold. found on the table after they left. one spring loose inside, rattling when shaken. what were they trying to say about it?