Welcome to Night Vale

About three things I am absolutely positive. First, Welcome to Night Vale is a leach to my time. Second, there is a part of it—and I don’t *jnow how potent that part may be—that is trying to brainwash and control my mind. And third, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with it.

I have been listening to the podcast "Welcome to Night Vale" and I must say that, even though I’m only on update 8, I cannot seem to let it go. This morning upon turning off my iPod, I noticed a strange feeling of emptiness, a deep void in my existence. I felt crushed and immobilized without the voice of Cecil Baldwin willing the world around me to crumble into an abyss, without his vocabulary repainting my own scenery, without the weather vaporizing every remnant portion of my exterior life. It was painful to wander the halls with the pressing reminder that the wonders of Night Vale were waiting for me as soon as the last bell rang.

But now I’m here.

Now I can enjoy as much as possible of this enchanting place until the morrow brings the disappointing agony of another eight hours with only the sounds of my peers to entertain me.