The kindest thing literature does is remind you that your peculiar little feelings have always existed. Someone, in some century, was equally confused by love, bored by society, tired of performing, and hungry for meaning.
“On Wires” by Carly Rae Jepsen release rules:
“I don’t like it” = blocked
“This is nothing compared to Run Away With Me” = blocked
“We wanted Ice Cream Cone” = blocked
“The Call Me Maybe girl is still making music?” = blocked + electric chair