Last night was like a replay of my favorite nightmare. I haven’t returned until now to see my tormentor who assures me I’ll live unhappily ever after. He builds me up just to break what’s left of my brittle faith. He knows my desires and lures me in with temptations of euphoric shredding and crunchy jams. I’m left always convinced that the hurt will be worth it because his whale call wizardry will heal me. When I’m in his realm there’s no spectrum to recognize; there are only two states of being. The first is ephemeral, simply a prerequisite feeling of bliss like sipping the effervescent waters of the Gamehendge River. It’s a joyous triumph rich with erections that make your bones scream. This celestial state of divine peace implies you're safe but in actuality you’ve let your guard down and your frame gets blown out of the sky like Pan Am Flight 103. While you’re flying high, he’s unbuckled your seat belt, laughing as you pitch downward into a fiery death spiral. What started as the perfect honeymoon is now a game of exploding kittens in the Syrian Desert. This is exactly why I came back.