was struck by poopghost (more accurately, janie) thoughts. real short. 120 words. read on ao3 or below the cut. spoilers for what PG's got going on, in case you haven't watched at least halfwayish through someone's POV yet
Little bits of you are still in there, occasionally floating to the surface. That's the worst part, really. You're never fully present, but sometimes you're just conscious enough to understand your situation, and you're filled with disgust.
There's comfort in complete loss of self. Nothing is disorienting when no part of you knows what it is to be properly oriented.
PG's body must still have a respiratory system and a circulatory system, because smoking weed has an effect. It's nice. It stifles those sparks of selfhood. Lets you rest. Amplifies the aspects of PG that people enjoy. It's literally chill. It's literally nice.
You weren't chill, you don't think. You weren't nice. The less of you they see, the better.