Fuck extinction. I just want to die. Just me. I don’t want to see this anymore. I don’t want to see how slimy everything is. I just want things to be clean. I’m going to start carrying around wipes to use in the world, so I don’t have to touch the disgusting oil off other people’s hands, the residue of all their grabbing. Hands scratching scalps, then grabbing handles. Hands wiping noses, then pressing elevator buttons. Hands on the walls and poles of trains and buses. Hands playing with contacts, then passing me my coffee cup. And mouths. Mouths speaking, spitting, chewing, squirting, coughing, smacking, projecting juices everywhere, sometimes on me. I’m nauseous.
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