No rolling papers... the McFag was born from a drinking straw packet

Those walls that surround you, those possessions that line the walls, the cupboards that burst with every kind of pot, pan, tub, tray, those shelves that provide an array of games, controllers, consoles, speakers, remotes, the food that is so plentiful it rots before it’s used. That stack of magazines and books that slide and fall when you step past it, those boxes of tools, shelves of parts, pots of pens, garden of ornaments, tubs of bits and pieces no one knows their belonging but you might *need* them some day. That nook crammed with fabrics, camping gear, boxes of papers and files, photos and albums, racks full of shoes for every occasion, dresses covered in plastic seldom worn on amazing nights out because you’re too busy managing all these bits you’ve crammed your life with. You clamber to bed over wires to plugs that are charging gadgets that track your life and put the pillow over your head because the light from the radio beams into your room like a lighthouse. The washing pile tumbles out of the wardrobe when you slide the door open and the cycle of all that laundry that seems to be a never-ending vicious circle of wear, wash, dry, fold, put away, wear….takes the shine off having had several different outfits to wear each day and gobbles your free days away. The constant glow of small lights ever waiting your return to be fired into action for ‘entertainment’ and then pull you into a zombie state that doesn’t communicate with anyone. No conversation, just busy, no creativity just numb, no time just tired, no love just fed up with the routinistic monotony that you’ve encapsulated yourself in in the name of having all this. You worked for it all, you crumbled doing it and now there is nothing but a soulless existence surrounded by the spawn of your own success. Happiness was a long time ago when things were sparse and simple.