I used to think that if I could get an executive to a show, they’d swoop me up in their not-so-strong wannabe rockstar arms that haven’t showered in a week and fly me over the gates of a castle that features rehab centers and classrooms that read “how to make authentic art while knowing that if you don’t hit a certain number of sales we’ll ghost you and ruin your entire life” on the chalkboards.

That day never came, and it never will.

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