Dear Vincent, I will not be a robot.

Dear Vincent,

What I retain from yesterday's session is how my whole life is a sad fantasy and if you were a cleaner, you would feel like a robot. Yesterday, as I cleaned, I felt deeply tragic. Then I translated a rush press release about making 3333 pairs of yoga pants out of 20,000 plastic water bottles. I took a mushrooms dose and called the Dead Inside Man. I woke up at 4:13 a.m. and the tragic feeling had not lifted. The crisis center said it was okay to cancel my faraway, polyamorous client.  On Facebook I found a French podcast about depression and being self-employed. 

Death is certain.

Its time is uncertain. 

I 

will

not 

be

a robot.

I will not be a robot.

The Dead Inside Man says it's all just dumb fun anyways.
Best wishes for a dumb-fun-filled day,

Erica. 


Send your imaginary and un-imaginary emails to Vincent, or to me. The secret email address is ericaschmidt85(at)gmail(dot)com. Yay dumb fun.

Yay, dumb fun.


Follow Erica J. Schmidt on Facebook

Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
I Let Go

Bodhisattva Business Ventures:

Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica)
Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads)
Instagram: montrealhippiethreads


Dear Vincent, Everyone is one with the birds except for me.
Five Days of Creative Recovery 
Dear Vincent, This is a Hungry Ghost