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ironmouse was my sleep paralysis demon like 3 weeks ago and ever since then i’ve been raw chasing that experience like a sleep-deprived simp summoner. she crawled out of the corner of my ceiling fan, eyes glowing like puerto rican fire, and before i could even think about screaming she was spitting in my mouth and calling me puta with that demonic gremlin giggle. i couldn’t move. i didn’t want to. she sat on my chest like i was a busted bubi body pillow and just mocked me for being the kind of man who drinks gamer girl bathwater and cries after. i felt blessed. i’ve been sleeping flat on my back with sleep paralysis playlists on spotify for weeks trying to bring her back. i haven’t dreamed of anything else. and now, in the worst part of my soul, i want to go deeper. i want to become connor’s cursed mpreg midwife. i want to be in the delivery room holding a plushie and screaming “push, queen” while mouse does commentary from the astral plane. i want to be haunted erotically. i don’t need therapy anymore. i need a vtuber exorcism and possibly an exorcism for my router.
