Who knows what the minimalist will do next? The shadows know.
I am afraid of the dark. Sometimes demons sit on my bed or loiter on the floor, mocking me. Mocking me DEMONICALLY, in a style strangely similar to the way my ex used to sit on the floor and taunt me.
Stupid demonic exes.
This is, in part, why I’m a minimalist. The fewer things on my floor, the fewer mysterious lumps that will abide in the disturbing half-light of my bedroom during the DARK. OF. NIGHT.