I Live Such a Minimalist Life I Don’t Even Exist

there is nothing here

I have one backpack, one bag of clothes, and three ounces of primordial goo.

You wouldn’t think that a poltergeist needs a bag of clothes. I left my physical body back on the plane of existence because that’s how committed to minimalism I am. But these are the clothes that spark joy. And seeing as how I am a spirit condemned to walk the earth for the rest of my days, it would behoove you to let me have a little goddamned joy. Because the other thing that sparks joy are the tightened grimaces of my enemies as I am retweeted into their timelines. (Ghosts have Twitter.)

Yea, I am but a wanderer, free to roam the earth looking to drive fear into the hearts of men and souls to reap. You’d think souls would take up a lot of room and they do so I don’t keep the souls. It’s important to leave the land just as you found it so I recycle the reaped souls into other souls which is why sometimes you forget what you were just looking for because I stashed another soul in your body. It’s kind of like tossing your trash in your neighbor’s dumpster, but if you were enlightened like me you would realize that trash (souls) are just a thing (thing) and things have no meaning (none.)

To be honest, I was hoping to cut back to two ounces of primordial goo, but anything less than three ounces of primordial goo makes it difficult to move. I don’t walk as much as hover, and you don’t want that primordial track getting backed up. Because no primordial goo = no moving. No moving = getting stuck in one place. Stuck in one place = you have an address. You have an address = you’ve just shit over everything minimalism stands for. I hope you’re happy. And I don’t even have wet wipes or Lysol to clean up your shit because I AM A GODDAMMNED MINIMALIST.

(Don’t give me that tiny house bullshit. You know how much special tiny stuff you need for one of those tiny motherfucking houses? A LOT OF TINY MOTHERFUCKING STUFF.)

Oh, what about the backpack?

It’s a fucking backpack. I may be a soul-stealing apparition sentenced to roaming the earth ’til the end of days, but you never know when you’ll need a backpack. What if I find a puppy? (NO I WOULD NEVER SOUL REAP A PUPPY YOU MONSTERS.) Then I could put the puppy in my backpack and together we could travel across the land, just a poltergeist and her puppy. And my bag of clothes. And my three ounces of primordial goo.

Remember that things do not have any meaning, experiences do, and experiences experienced while you are incapable of physically experiencing anything is peak minimalism. It’s like, do you even exist bro?

I don’t.

And it’s transcendent. (Literally.)