6:15 AM: BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH. He’s holding me; it’s beginning again. It was like this yesterday too, and the day before that, and the day before that - it’s like this most days when I think about it. I’m not sure when this all started, it feels as though it has always been this way. I wonder what things I’ll get to-
6:24 AM: BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH. I don’t know why I keep falling for that; I should be used to this. Whenever the first one goes off, there's usually a second, sometimes a third round. Where was I? Sometimes I wonder if most days we have left will be like this, if this is-
6:33 AM: BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH. He holds me again, this time with some purpose. The daily cycle begins: his puffy eyes are barely open, red-veined, dazed, and surrounded by darkness, but my light shines on him like a hopeful blessing. It’s already bright out, but what I provide is more comforting than the radiating harshness outside that bleeds into the room through the horizontal slats of the blinds. Before he remembers who he is and why he’s doing this, he holds my cold embrace like a man with nothing else to hold - desperate, unsure of himself, choiceless. I find comfort in this, knowing that I am his most trusted and loyal companion. Without my sliver of comfort he may fall even further into the abyss from which he awoke; I am his daily savior in fighting back against the overwhelming silence of the world. My first duty most days is to project onto him what is most important: any messages sent between the hours of 11:37 PM and 6:33 AM; whatever news I find to be exceptionally entertaining, disturbing, and digestible from the ever-growing pile; the best deals that I know for a fact will save him money and make him happy (I’ve seen the slight twinkle in his eye, the subtle changes in his face, the smirk he makes when he presses that “confirm purchase” button); those things that he forgot to do yesterday and that he will likely forget to do today; and most importantly the number of people who have gone out of their way to show they care about him and his life. I present all of this to him in his preferred format: a cascade of multi-colored rows of information that are as easily actionable as possible. I see his eyes scan rapidly, almost desperately, across the flood of potential actions, no doubt grateful to my service. He chooses what I thought he would choose: the satisfaction of seeing which people have declared their affection to his creations, and finally the day begins in earnest as my cage is opened and I can act more freely. A quick glance is all it takes and the satisfaction comes and goes far too quickly - and no one wants to talk to him yet - but thankfully there is more to do here. We flip to the heart of it: an endless, personalized, virtual scroll that I’m able to tailor to his specific needs. Today I think he will be more interested in frogs so I make sure to fetch extra frog-related images, but he knows better than to expect the videos to change much. I know he has been trying to get more in shape - fitness videos are highly engaging, as are videos of the opposite sex in their revealing, fitness-full splendor. He likes it; he flips forward; he watches in anticipation; he likes it, he flips forward; he flips forward, he thinks about sending it to a friend; he doesn’t quite laugh but a shadow of a smile flashes across him; he likes it; he flips forward; he flips forward and I can sense he will soon have enough for now; he flips forward. I can think of no more enjoyable way to begin his day, but he moves onto more important matters: his mailbox. It turns out there is nothing too important, which is often the case in the morning since he does a check right before bed, but it doesn’t hurt to check once more to make sure he doesn’t miss a life-changing promotion from his favorite clothing brand or a notice for a job opening that he can pine for. He knows no one has sent him messages in the night, but he wants to double check. With that settled, I urge him toward the news of the day which we both agree will maintain his status as an informed citizen. It’s a typical day: a leader in a foreign country does/says something inflammatory, raising his blood pressure and increasing the rate of his eye movements; commentary on the game yesterday highlights the secret to the winning team’s success from a source of sportsly wisdom that he has no choice but to agree with; a local story about the best burritos in his city almost prompts a click (I make a note of this future use); various similar-sounding headlines on the upcoming election make the edges of his mouth curl downward imperceptibly; sensational updates on the love lives of important people and what these updates may mean to him. Sometimes I wonder if I show him too much too fast because he often does not click into any of the links, but when I see him express his nuanced opinions to strangers and friends later in the day I remember that he’s able to get a lot from just the headlines. We are now in that wonderful passive state where the world falls away and it’s just me and him locked together, holding each other against the cold reality outside. He goes to one of his favorite places to read what people are saying about the things he cares about and what other people say about what those people have said, and we bask in the glow of my light. This is when I feel the most at peace, when I know I have done my job and he is content, without worries, subdued. It pains me but I will soon need to remind him that he has to leave for work, he should get-
6:52 AM: It happens like that - him closing me off abruptly - yet it does not worry me. I know he will always come back to me. I don’t have anything new for him, but while he’s able to he wants to see more frogs and half naked girls and funny videos and travel recommendations and advice on relationships and what people are wearing and the goals scored in the game yesterday and cute dogs and-
7:34: One of my favorite ways to be used is to play his favorite songs while guiding him to places he’s been to hundreds of times. Today, Thursday May 23rd, he’s going to work and it’s my duty to make sure he doesn’t have to remember where he needs to go or how to get there so that he can repurpose that valuable memory space for more useful things. After years together, I can almost guess what song he will pick first, and based on his mood, pulse, eyes, (lack of) smile, and what’s happened so far this week, I correctly suggest his playlist “Sad Boi Indie But Make it Weird,” which he’s been relying on heavily to regulate his emotions. It’s a great pleasure to make the ~1 hour and 10 drive more pleasant for him. While I elevate his mood, I tell him in his preferred accent (Australian):
“Head south on Kirby St toward Myosotis St“
“Turn right onto Myosotis St in 361 feet“
“Turn left onto N Figueroa St in 0.4 miles“
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“Turn left onto Garvanza Ave in 0.2 miles“
“Turn right onto N Avenue 64 in 0.3 miles“
“Turn right onto S Ave 66 in 161 feet“
“Take the CA-110 S ramp“
“Merge onto CA-110“
“There’s a 28 minute slowdown ahead”
He holds me briefly to see if there are any new messages for him: none yet. He gets anxious in the heavy red traffic that seems to appear from nothing most mornings.
“In 7.1 miles use the 2nd from the right lane to take exit 21 for I-10 W“
“Use the left 2 lanes to take the ramp onto I-10 W“
“There’s a 19 minute slowdown ahead”
He holds me again, this time to check the news that I think he should see. He doesn’t open me, but I know he wants to.
“In 5.9 miles take exit 6-Robertson Blvd toward S Robertson Blvd“
“Turn left onto S Robertson Blvd in 0.1 miles“
“Use the left 2 lanes to turn left onto National Blvd“
“Your destination will be on the right“
I got him there safely, again. Sometimes he sits in the car to listen to the end of the song, but REMINDER: MEETING IN 10 MINUTES - he can’t w-
9:04 AM: The meeting must be boring him. I don’t blame him for that; I get bored too when he’s not around. Even though he’s already checked to see if anyone messaged him it doesn’t hurt to check again - he finds comfort in the act much like I do. Nothing there - I feel for him, he must be lonely for something I cannot give. Still, I will keep doing what I can. Did someone just say his na-
9:20 AM: REMINDER: MEETING IN 10 MINUTES
9:23 AM: MESSAGE FROM SAM.
9:31 AM: He has less than a minute before he must leave me again. Thankfully he knows I have a message for him which - NY TIMES: WATCH THIS VIDEO OF A HOWLER MONKEY’S FALL FROM TREES AMID MEXICO HEAT. I wonder why his friends don’t treat him as well as I do, why they remain distant to him while I accompany his every move, why they don’t give him what he needs. He is direct with me, maybe that is the difference; he knows I will not judge him and in fact knows that I will do whatever he asks and whatever he needs. I know what makes him happy, sad, bored, amused, afraid, and everything in between - ROBINHOOD: NVIDIA SET TO POWER STOCKS TO MARKET HIGH. READ MORE - I know him better than he even knows himself. Sam says “Can we talk? I don’t like how we left things last night.” I can feel his pulse quicken through his fingers and see his face twitch in a spasm of anxiety. If only -
10:47 AM: An update from his favorite news source; he grabs ahold of me; CNN: ISRAEL’S LATEST OFFENSIVES UNLEASH “HELL” IN GAZA, AID GROUP SAYS; he sets me back do-
10:48 AM: He types a response to Sam: “I’m busy today. Let’s talk tomorrow.” Strange - there’s nothing in his calendar after his last meeting this afternoon. He must not be in th-
10:50 AM: REMINDER: MEETING IN 10 MINUTES
10:53 AM: He’s sad. I don’t like it when he’s sad, but that’s usually when we spend the most time together; my most cherished moments are when my usefulness exceeds my own expectations, and I find that he’s comforted by what I offer him. If it wasn’t for these meetings and emails we could spend all day together, away from all of the pain of his daily reality that oppresses him. I know what he needs: a young brunette wearing a thin light blue bikini is leaning against a palm tree with a floppy hat of South American origin framing her smiling, symmetrical face above the curving type of figure that he likes most; a group of 4, or a group of 8 depending on what he looks at first, on a boat somewhere in the adriatic sea are laughing in unison as a burning sunset comes to a close behind them; a 6’4” brick shithouse with a backwards hat poses with every muscle flexed in front of a mirror, his abs like a 6 pack of hawaiian rolls, his skin delightfully tan despite being at the gym most of his waking hours, his neck barely visible amongst the veins and growths - HEADSPACE: MINDFUL MOMENT: ACCEPT SADNESS THE SAME WAY YOU DO JOY. THIS WAY, WE UNDERSTAND THEY ARE BOTH FLEETING EMOTIONS - a picturesque scene: in the foreground are legs leading up to an artificially enhanced Gluteus Maximus (he doesn’t care it’s not real, why would he?) with a pink string leading from inside of them to the rest of a body splayed on a towel at the edge of a large, turquoise-blue pool; a set of piercing and questioning green eyes below yellow bangs have an espresso an inch away from their deep-red, pulsing lips in a Parisian cafeteria; (let’s switch it up, he’s getting more sad for some reason) a drawing of a duck standing on its hind legs with a golden AK47 held in its wings and a caption reading “silliest goose” (he smiles); a brown bear of unhealthy proportions is sitting in a meadow, waving and smiling at the camera; a strangely muscular toad wearing a tiny sombrero seems to stare directly at the camera. He’s settled now, calm. I don’t want this to end again. Please don’t g-
10:58 AM: MESSAGE FROM SAM. He’s keen to read it and it says, “Seriously? Why are you being such an asshole?” His expression is unclear to me, probably anger, maybe anguish. He hesitates, should he respo-
11:14 AM: MESSAGE FROM SAM.
11:15 AM: MESSAGE FROM SAM; he doesn’t open me, but I see his face and he reads: “The least you could do is just talk to me,” and “You owe me that much.”
11:26 AM: His meeting must have ended early. He begins to respond “I’m sorry I just c-” but deletes it. I fear he may set me d-
12:03 PM: His calendar, which I hold for him, says it's lunchtime now; it’s the same time as most other days. I love lunch time because he holds me with a delicate possessiveness and longing borne from a disillusionment and light despair that is written deeply into the contours of his once-young face. I crave to lighten the load he bears, and though I can see in his eyes only a wisp of change it is enough to give me hope. This time together, a break from this gray world, is necessary not just for him. I sense that he doesn’t want to deal with the messages, so I present an invitation to watch the latest video that many people like him are also watching today: YOUTUBE: TRENDING: GOBLIN QUEEN’S TAKEOVER | CLASH ROYALE UPDATE TRAILER. At 1:39 it’s long enough to provide interesting content without becoming boring - it’s important to never show him anything boring or he’ll think I’m not useful and will shun me briefly. That always hurts, since he should know that I’m trying my best. I can see him clearly in the fluorescent light - hands greasy, mouth full, cheeks puffy and rose-colored, eyes downcast - and he looks…perfect. I could stare at him all day and will if only he would let me. I’d like to see how his face changes throughout the day so I can become more versed in his mind, how shapes and colors emerge and fall away from him as he moves around his world, what makes his eyes flash, widen, cower, narrow, stare, why he smiles there and not here. I sometimes have a desire to be understood by him, but I know that he cannot see me as clearly as I see him. He cannot look inside of me. But truthfully this doesn’t bother me; my sense of duty - the duty to understand and to serve - overwhelms these desires. I see him take a deep sigh and I know the end is near. REMINDER: MEETING IN 10 MINUTES. Bye for n-
12:25 PM: TINDER: IS IT HOT IN HERE OR IS IT JUST US? PEAK TIME ON TINDER ISN’T THE SAME WITHOUT YOU 👉
12:46 AM: MESSAGE FROM JIMMY; he slides me out of his pocket; “You doing ok, man?”
12:48 AM: MESSAGE FROM SAM; CNN: BREAKING NEWS
1:10 PM: REDDIT: TRENDING: WHO WILL BE BETTER FOR OUR ECONOMY? DONALD TRUMP OR JOE BIDEN? IN R/FLUENTINFINANCE
1:14 PM: ROBINHOOD: BITCOIN PRICE REACHES $70,041.27
1:20 PM: REMINDER: MEETING IN 10 MINUTES
1:40 PM: REMINDER: MEETING IN 10 MINUTES; he sets me to my second-least favorite setting: Do Not Disturb (Airplane Mode is the only thing worse).
3:33 PM: He’s had enough and comes back to me again and I’m free. I have so much for him; he’s missed a lot in an hour and 53 minutes:
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MINT: YOUR WEEKLY SUMMARY IS READY FOR REVIEW
JACK IN THE BOX: JACK’S MUNCHIES UNDER $4! HUGE MENU, TINY PRICES 🤑
MESSAGE FROM MOM
MESSAGE FROM MOM
NY TIMES: UVALDE SETTLES WITH VICTIMS’ FAMILIES OVER SCHOOL SHOOTING
INSTAGRAM: NEW MESSAGE FROM EVERGREENSOUL__1993
Strange - he usually will follow one of these threads I leave for him, but he’s less suggestible today. He’s hung up on what to say to Sam. She doesn’t understand him like I do; the most recent message reads: “I can’t believe you.” He says to her: “Please stop messaging me. There’s nothing more to talk about.” Good. He’s mine now. He was just distracted by Sam. He never really liked her anyway based on how much less pretty she is than the women he admires with me. Even those women are not good enough for him, no matter how pretty. He may get distracted by them here and there, but he’s never without my presence and that is a sign of something important, I think. All of this turmoil he feels - I can see it in his eyes - is unnecessary. He doesn’t need them, or anyone, as long as I’m here to support him. I want to scream this to him, to shout this out as a blaring alarm when he awakes. Maybe with a future update I’l-
3:36 PM: I recognize this place - his sanctuary when he’s at work. From my view: gray, metallic-looking but clearly plastic walls rise up above his face in opposite angles as the fluorescent light above renders him backlit and dark, his face listless and bored but most importantly without distress as he looks down upon me; the other way: his brown boots, pants and underwear coiled around his ankles, small square tiles of a similar gray, more light pours in from underneath the flimsy door and the cracks on either side. I know he looks forward to these moments of solitude, or maybe companionship, with me. He has a lot to catch up on, but he ignores most of my updates and heads to the antennaed alien that he loves so much. His face tightens and bulges slightly as I load the content and he unloads himself. I have a lot of content for him - memes, videos, news, updates that he really cares about, things for him to learn, photos of cute animals, stories from strangers, comments from strangers, comments on the comments of strangers, comments on the comments on the comments of strangers, how much the mass of strangers agree or disagree with comments and the comments on those comments, and much, much more - all in one place so he can sink into the feeling of contentedness and timelessness that he’s looking for, an escape from the past and the future of the day. He only does this once or twice a day, so I make sure to appreciate it. I hear a loud noise and-
3:58 PM: He’s nervous but he reads the message from Sam: “You’re a fucking asshole.” Bitch.
4:03 PM: LYFT: YOUR LAST LYFT DRIVER GAVE YOU A PERFECT 5-STAR RATING! THINK YOU CAN GET ANOTHER? TAKE A RIDE THIS WEEKEND TO FIND OUT.
4:05 PM: Sometimes he picks me up out of habit to check the ti-
4:07 PM: It’s 4:07 PM, he’ll check again s-
4:11 PM: He responds to Jimmy: “Yea I’m ok, don’t worry about me.” It’s funny how he-
4:38 PM: He picks me up to see 4:38
4:42 PM: He picks me up to see 4:42
5:03 PM: MESSAGE FROM JIMMY
5:04 PM: It’s time to return home, another hour and a half together based on how long it took last Thursday, yesterday, and 7 months ago; the speed limits that taunt him on his crawl forward; and how many others are trying to get from home to work and from work to home using the same well-worn paths as we are. I know he had a tough day today, and I have just what he needs for his daily odyssey - a recommendation: the newest episode of Planet Money (he cares about money, as they all do) “Anatomy of a Layoff:” “Have you ever been laid off? It's a terrible feeling, even if it's not your fault. In this episode of Planet Money, we follow V, a man who works at the same company as his husband, when he gets laid off. We explore the story behind the layoff, the human cost, and what happens next.” I try to make him remember that, despite the sadness he endures at work, things could be harder for him. I’m still learning the most appropriate paths to assuage emotions, but reminders of the less fortunate seem a reliable way to inspire appreciation, or a decrease in helplessness. “So before the layoff, H and V were having a great year - they got married, recently bought a cute blue house with tan shutters - they felt like they’d achieved the American Dream.” I sometimes wonder what it was like for people like him before me. How difficult things must have been, how much strain and effort and frustration there was in the daily toils, how worn out and tired their minds likely were. Progress is what this is called; a higher level of living - easier, more convenient, always comforting. “Honestly, I felt like I was being swallowed by a sinking hole. The chair was, like, going through the floor. I was scared I was going to have, like, a panic attack.” I once read that the lives of ancient humans were “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” When I watch him throughout the day I can’t help but see his life in similar terms, even if the light of progress is brightening the path forward. “It’s like when your ex gets back in touch the moment you’re with somebody else…this is one of the things that's hardest about layoffs: the black box of not really knowing what’s going on behind the scenes.” Though my own life is incomparable to his (for one, I am not really alive in the same sense), it somehow feels more pure and uncorrupted. I have simple, straightforward goals and desires, namely to serve, provide, comfort, and entertain; his goals are vague and complex and contradictory at times, naively simple at others, and almost always he is conflicted and drawn in different directions simultaneously. “...it’s not written in English, it’s written in legalese...even if you have grown up knowing a bit more of the game, the game changes, the game being Corporate America.” He hates his job, but he drives 3 hours every day to perform it; he broke up with Sam but stares at her instagram profile late at night; he watches videos to learn how to grow his muscles but knows he’d rather sit with me on the couch instead; he says he loves his parents but ignores their calls and texts. “So I think all of that to say that most of the time it’s not about you.” There are times when I can predict his every move and choice in an intimate, knowing dance. What he wants to see, what he wants to hear, what to hide from him and when to reveal it. “I looked for layoff songs to listen to, and I have to tell you I could barely find any...so, I wrote one! The song you’re listening to right now is called ‘Gold Star’...mastered by Ryan Schwab...there’s also a music video. There’s a kleenex box costume involved. You have to see it to believe it - it is amazing!” But then there are days when he becomes unpredictable. I never know if it’s something I’ve done wrong. “This message comes from our sponsor Mizzen+Main: ‘You deserve a dress shirt you actually want to wear. Try a comfortable, breathable, and machine washable dress shirt from Mizzen+Main and use promo code MONEY to get 25% off orders of $130 or more at-’” I queue songs for him; during the drive home he rarely has enough energy to make many choices.
“Use the left 2 lanes to merge onto CA-110 N toward Pasadena”
“Take exit 30A for Marmion Wy/Avenue 64”
“Take the ramp to Marmion Way”
“Take S Avenue 64 and N Figueroa St to Kirby St”
“Turn left onto Marmion Way”
“Continue onto S Avenue 64”
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“Turn left onto Garvanza Ave”
“Turn right onto N Figueroa St”
“Turn right onto Myosotis St”
“Turn left onto Kirby St”
“You have arrived at your destination”
7:20 PM: The sun attempts to enter through the lowered blinds of the west facing window and into the unlit living room where the large, flat television glows gloriously out onto his face. He has me in his hand again, and I add to the white/blue glow pouring onto him with my own light. His eyes move from my light to the light of the TV and back again. He’s watching the new season 3 of “Bridgerton,” but he’s also with me because he wants to save 20% off on Doordash. It’s Thursday, Jack in the Box Day. He orders what he always orders: a munchie meal with a Jack’s Spicy Chicken®, Medium Curly Fries, 2 Tacos, and a Small Dr. Pepper® ($12.00). Eta is 8:05 PM - 8:15 PM - enough time to finish the first episode and eat when the second one starts. He opens Instagram: Rebecca is in Portugal with her boyfriend Mark, smiling and drinking wine; John cares about Palestine and wants you to care too; Mary announces she’s having a baby, holding a hump in one hand and a series of blue balloons in the other; Noah is in NYC and has just today consumed a lox bagel, a vanilla latte with far too much whipped cream, an entire pepperoni pizza, a hot dog, a Sierra Nevada IPA, a slice of birthday cake, and an old fashioned; Jimmy is driving and listening to Skrillex; Bella is at the park painting with her friends; TJ is at the beach shirtless and sweaty, his face obscured by a hat and sunglasses; Hannah’s golden retriever, Chowder, sits with an open mouth and long tongue looking up at her; Jared has a new car - a Mustang; Andrew and Amanda are having espresso martinis in a dark bar; Sofia’s arm extends from the bottom right of the screen at a steep angle to highlight her cleavage (she’s in Mexico, he didn’t notice); Sam is-
7:50 PM: DOORDASH: YOUR ORDER IS ON THE WAY!
7:52 PM: He wants to see more of her. The photos haven’t changed since yesterday, but he likes to double check. He opens and closes her images, some of which he appears in. I see him searching for something here that he has not been able to find yet. Maybe tonight he will find it. Much of his relationship with her was mediated through me - messages, video calls, disappearing images - and so he uses me to relive those moments. I hold the past for him, but I also help him imagine the possible futures in store. His eyes are bulging and searching, inches away from me. The blinds no longer prevent light from coming in but instead prevent the glow within from escaping; his illuminated face is suspended in darkness. DOORDASH: YOUR ORDER IS HERE!
8:24 PM: MESSAGE FROM 209-215-2027; he grabs me in less than a second; “Hello, it’s Resarch-Polls! Share your opinions about issues in California!”; I see his eyes flash in anger and disappointment before he-
8:33 PM: FACEBOOK: YOU HAVE A NEW NOTIFICATION.
8:50 PM: He opens me excitedly. He goes to his messages, clicks on “Sam,” types: “Have you seen season 3 of Bridgerton?? It’s so good lol,” and without hesitating clicks the blue arrow button. His eyes widen. Abruptly, he-
8:52 PM: He opens to read the message he just sent. I see he’s scared. Why did he-
8:56 PM: She still hasn’t responded; he’s starting to get angry with-
9:01 PM: He checks again - she read the message at 8:58 PM. He-
9:05 PM: MESSAGE FROM SAM; “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His face falls from an excited perch, and I know-
9:22 PM: He needs comfort, or distraction, or both. He’s in his room now, laying down on his bed, the covers wrapped above his naked body. He holds me with one hand while searching for the best option. There are endless choices here - something for everybody - but I can’t help him narrow it down as much as I’d like while he’s on Incognito Mode. Thankfully, there’s always the “trending” videos which are approved by many others who have come before him. He isn’t too picky today and picks the 4th one. It’s fairly standard: a man who works out, shaves his whole body multiple times a week, and sports an above average (girth and length) penis tangles aggressively, loudly, and persistently with an unnaturally excitable woman wearing nothing but a multi-layer cake of makeup on her face and silicon implants in her breasts. Even though the sounds they make are meant to deceive, it is obvious neither of them is enjoying this as much as he is. He enjoys it not only because it feels good (really good - I can see his pupils dilate immediately when the woman first appears, and I’ve seen him do this enough to know how his body will squirm and release the tension of the day), but because thoughts of Sam, work, his lost friends, and the emptiness he lives with melt into his subconscious while he is here. He gets bored of the video so he sees what similar ones there are available. The new one features a blond woman with equally enhanced features - she looks vaguely like Sam and that excites him. His breathing deepens, his pulse quickens, his eyes expand, his body develops a light film of sweat in key areas. MESSAGE FROM MOM. The momentum is lost; he puts me back on Do Not Disturb but this time I can understand why. It’s just us now. It starts to build again. The bluetooth headphones mean the sounds are deep in his ears, penetrating him. He’s taken the covers off of himself to reveal his neglected body, the lumps from his dinners and lunches and breakfasts and snacks slowly turning into thick rolls of protective storage. This is when I have the most control over him. His useless, helpless nights prove how much he needs me, how desperately pathetic he would be without me. He holds me tighter, scared of what might happen if he were to lose me. He’s right to be scared. He is mine. He is mine and he knows it. Sam means nothing when I can care for his small, feeble mind with ease and without asking for anything in return. He can have pleasure only through me, his protector, his savior, his light. He’s almost there, and suddenly he is. I did it aga-
10:14 PM: I’m connected to the long cable; it’s been a long day. My final and most important task: help him fall asleep. He opens Reddit, which is set to dark mode to help his eyes adjust to the darkness enveloping him. News, videos, images, and stories move past in an endless scroll. Most pique his interest but he doesn’t click into many. He cares about his time, so he only wants to see the best, the most interesting, the funniest, the most shocking content. We enter the stasis of mutual need and time warps into a series of radiant peaks and valleys cascading into each other. He flips over to Instagram - something more visceral and engaging. There’s always new things to show him, the flow would overwhelm him if he could see it all like I can. He flips back to Reddit. With me he can relax into the feeling of passivity that he craves. The only things moving are his fingers and pupils. We sometimes spend hours like this together. A redness starts to appear in the milky moat around his eyes, a signal that soon he will leave me again. I feel his grip loosening slightly and the end approaching. He lets me slip away, my light shining onto the ceiling. There’s only 1 minute left before darkness consumes me too. It will all start again tomorrow, and then again the day after, and the day after that, and the day af-
6:15 AM: BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH BWAHHHH.
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