Spell for When You’re Sad & Lonely

Here’s what you will need:

• Lavender oil
• Rose petals
• Epsom or sea salt
• Way more candles than you can afford
• A really fucking sad playlist

Go into your bathroom, and turn off all the lights. Stand in the dark for a long, long time. Maybe your eyes adjust, and you can sort of see yourself in the mirror — a haunting figure, cloaked in shadows. Yeah, that seems right. Light the candles and watch the way the light dances on your face. Maybe you’ll forget to blow them out. Maybe you’ll be engulfed in flames. And like a phoenix, you’ll realize that no, actually you don’t exist. You never existed. And now you can’t rise from the ashes. Because you’re dead. Dead, dead, dead.

Turn on the bathwater. Dump a ton of salt in there. Add the lavender oil. Think, “See, my life is okay.” Crumble in some rose petals because well, it’s difficult to say exactly how close you are to abandoning your human form and becoming a sandstorm, but it’s starting to feel increasingly likely. Click play on the playlist.

Alright, so you can’t hear the music over the bathwater running. But soon, soon the tub will be full, and you’ll be able to hear the playlist you so carefully curated for a quiet evening of melancholy and heart-wrenching despair. Still, in the future maybe you could run the bathwater and stare listlessly into the void simultaneously. Like, you know, multi-tasking. I don’t know, just, something to think about. Anyway, this night is about to get started. Big time.

After what seems like an actual eternity, the tub is full enough for you to submerge yourself in the water. At first you think, “This feels fine, I guess.” But soon your face starts sweating. You have nowhere to look except at your boobs, which float just above the surface. You wonder, “Are my boobs weird? I guess they’re fine. Or, I don’t know. They seem kinda weird. But like, who even has good nipples?” Lots of women actually, but why do you always focus on things you can’t change?

Allow your thoughts to drift to other subjects, in a deeply misguided attempt at relaxation. Float through time and space, until you eventually settle on a moment — this morning in the office kitchen. What was it that Carol said? Something like, “Did you see last night’s Mr. Robot?” And what was your response? Oh yeah — “I wish there were a crisis center for emotional injuries. Sorry, I mean, my dad’s an alcoholic.” You’re never getting promoted.