days

There is no point in discussing possibilities in the hell of submerged selves. No one answers their email here. No one wants another drink. No one talks. Everyone is too tired to play, always. If you do find the energy to escape it, I highly recommend making your way to the hell of real numbers. There, you’ll find the true number of hells you must experience and their descriptions. It’s a great starting point if you’re looking to gain a little perspective. Brace yourself, they don’t give this a hell of its own for nothing. Do not ask it how many times you’ve accidentally eaten disgusting things. No one is ready for that number. Next door there’s the hell of lowered expectations. It’s kitty corner to the hell of people who call their lovers “partners”, the hell of people who call anything “open concept” and the hell of quaint rural living. The hell of lustful personal decisions is always interesting. The hell of subterfuge is to be avoided but the hell of good intentions is indeed paved and makes a great skate park. I’m partial to the hell of hell does not exist. I own a lovely home on the beach there designed by a minimalist architect I rescued from the hell of being constantly compared to Frank Gehry. I find it offers me the best ocean views and the least amount of hellish anything. Though, it is brimming with deeply self-satisfied assholes so it’s still somewhat functioning as a hell of its own.