It may sound crazy, but it’s just in my head that we’re all in my head.
Why else would I pass the same PT Cruiser parked outside of every Starbucks? Add to that: why are there so many Starbucks and Chipotles and the like littered around? I’m out of material.
I never was that good of a writer, but I’m clearly relying on tropes at this point based on the number of times my GPS tells me to turn onto a Cleveland street that’s in a completely different part of town.
Why else would they have tried to reboot Murphy Brown a few years back? and Roseanne? and the Wonder Years? and an entire cable network about gaming and tech? It’s all in my head and I’m out of ideas.
I delivered food to two women back to back with my sister’s then niece’s names–initial and all.
And why else would there be an endless supply of panel shows on YouTube with the same 13 British comedians put on shuffle like the world’s least creative ensemble cast from a mid-90s sitcom?
“CONTINUE STRAIGHT ONTO AGRICULTURE DR,” The constantly lost GPS inside my food delivery app yells at me.
I get out of my car and shuffle through the leaf-strewn front yard of one of the many (but shrinking) gracefully aging houses in this town that all seem to have the same face now.
I check the phone, call out a familiar name, ready for it to be another coincidence, but when I look up the Allie M. really is a person I haven’t seen in a decade.
Things are fading fast, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep the Monkey Bone of it all up. The repeats are growing in frequency and intensity and I know that I don’t know enough material to have reality go on in my mind unwrapped. Surely they’ve pulled plug, because this might sound crazy, but it’s just in my head that we’re all in my head.