Just how out of hand can the collective crippling, intense social anxieties and depressions of a hub of neurotic souls get before it begins morphing into a personified form of one? Truthfully, no one can quite recognize how it has come to this, but there have been reports of a piercing sound of cries throughout these Bushwick summer nights. Many speculate the simpler notion, that it perhaps is just the exaggerated sobs of some fucktard pussy who’s re-watching Never Been Kissed on a yet another Friday night in which they’ve been stood up by a Tinder date.
Others theorize that it could be the tears and sorrows of pathetic Bushwick denizens acting as vapor, rising into the air to form dark, gloomy clouds which in turn rain on everyone’s parade, creating a vicious cycle of persisting angst among the community. If the pattern of self deprecation and misery continues, then everyone in Bushwick will surely be slitting their wrists come autumn.
The anxiety and depression are just a few things to name atop an array of other mental disorders which have manifested themselves into this whiney monster which cannot be seen, but can most definitely be heard. What are we to do about our forlorn dwelling and how are we to prevent ourselves (if we haven’t already) from inevitably being sucked into the doleful abyss?
Written by Nicole Benson