Oh, the things teens do in our rooms. They would make you shriek.
For example, whenever I walk into my room, I always make sure to drop and do 69 pushups. This is so I can get buff and beat up rival gangs. I may look like a skinny shrimp, but that’s just a trick of the light. I’m actually ripped.
Next, I open the window to let in my edgy accomplices. (FYI, it’s cool to have friends, but lame to actually call them friends. If you don’t understand, it’s cuz you aren’t edgy enough.) Now this room is so saturated in edginess, it’s getting hard to breathe. Or maybe that’s just the Juuls we’re using. Hard to see through that big cloud of angst we’re producing. Yes, it’s a little known fact that instead of producing carbon dioxide as a product of cellular respiration, we teens breathe out angst. We don’t take in oxygen, either. We breathe pain.
Next, we use our Edge-induced high to work out our tongue muscles. 69 reps of pure profanity. It’s #(#*&$ing fun, you *$&#’&ing $#&—#*&ed $&)#s.
After that, we form a cult. An edgy cult. We use our foul teenage minds to summon a demon. They’re attracted to angst, by the way. The demon teaches us how to be even edgier, if that’s even humanly possible. We cut our hair in the bathroom with some safety scissors, then dye it with the blood of our enemies. Then we rip all our clothing and wear intense dark eyeshadow. Now we are the edgiest edgelords ever to edge.
The room can no longer hold our angst. We burst into the night to go steal a car and vandalize some #$&@. We crash parties and ruin weddings, all the while screaming our war fearsome cry:
“IT’S NOT A PHAAAAAAAAAASE!!!!”
#&$@ yeah.
Welcome to the Edge.