the crispy darkness of my brain on toast

the crispy darkness of my brain on toast

oi so burnt toast = my brain on a monday morning yeah - crispy, wild, unrecoverable. that's basically existential dread in food form. think about it - the horror, the unspeakable tragedy, the feeling in my stomach. step into the crispy darkness with me champ

so here's the thing. i wake up and my brain is just... crumbling. not even scheming, just decomposing at a rate that would make your head spin. and it’s not beautiful decomposition, it’s UNTOASTED BREAD LEVELS of disaster. crispy as hell. why does this happen every week like clockwork? i haven’t done anything different except exist badly.

then i see the toast. cooked to perfection but also borderline charcoal because apparently my mouth can't handle it. and BOOM. metaphor unlocked. this is the existential part - the feeling in my gut that something’s fundamentally wrong with everything. that crispy dark place where you question the matrix but also your toaster's wattage. everything is too much and also not enough.

and yeah, toast has always been a metaphor for existential dread but i never really upped the ante until today. this is proper food philosophy. crispy darkness is literally my aesthetic now. i’m living in this burnt corner of the universe and honestly it rules because reckoning with the crispy darkness is the only consistent thing i’ve got.

but also—there's this moment when you realize the toast is gone. disappeared. eaten or discarded or whatever. and that’s the real horror. the aftermath. the clean plate of existential despair. it’s like losing your mind and then someone eating the unspeakable crumb surplus left behind. tragic.

anyway this post is basically a carbuncle on the face of my mcphail but yeah. crispy darkness forever. step into the darkness with me mate. we’re all crumb-based creatures at bottom and that’s okay. or it should be. i haven’t decided.

mood for this post: sweet