Welcome, soft idiot. You’ve been issued a Human Body, the most fragile, overpromised, poorly updated model in the known universe. It arrives preloaded with ten to fourteen irrational fears, a vague longing for something you can’t name, and knees made of soup.
Please review the following terms and conditions. You agreed to all of them by being born without asking.
SECTION 1: BASIC OPERATIONS
To operate your Human Body, please consult no one. Everyone is making it up. Even the experts are crying in public bathrooms. That said, here’s a brief guide:
- To walk: Shift your weight and hope.
- To speak: Open your mouth. Regret everything.
- To cry: Happens automatically when watching underdog sports movies or looking at your own reflection too long in a subway window.
- To love: Apply pressure directly to the wound. Repeat until numb or until the object of affection becomes unavailable, indifferent, or worse—sincere.
WARNING: Excessive self-awareness may void your warranty.
SECTION 2: FEATURES
This model includes:
- Eyeballs that randomly leak
- Hair that falls out in clumps whenever life changes
- A liver that resents you
- A heart so stupid it trusts people who don’t text back
- One (1) brain that believes that everyone is thinking about you and, simultaneously, that no one ever has
Not Included:
- Instructions
- Purpose
- Emotional stability
- Ability to remember why you walked into a room
You may also notice a recurring glitch called shame. This is not a bug. It is the entire operating system.
SECTION 3: MAINTENANCE & UPKEEP
To maintain your Human Body:
- Feed it three times a day or once at 2 a.m. while crying into a Tupperware of cold rice.
- Move it regularly, but not too much. You’re not training for anything.
- Sleep, or at least lie down and scroll until unconscious.
- Pretend you’re not panicking.
If your body begins to emit noises (joints, gas, weeping), simply blame the chair.
SECTION 4: LIMITATIONS OF USE
Your Human Body is not authorized for the following uses:
- Knowing what to do with your hands during sex or group photos
- Confronting people about the way they hurt you
- Finding the correct emotional volume during family dinners
- Existing without comparing yourself to strangers on the internet
Please do not attempt to self-actualize during retrograde, allergy season, or mercury poisoning (i.e., your twenties).
SECTION 5: SOCIAL PERFORMANCE MODE
This mode engages automatically when around others.
- Smile even when your soul is limp.
- Say “I’m good, you?” when asked how you are, even if you’re actively disassociating.
- Laugh at the boss’s joke even if it rewires your DNA in the worst way.
- Forget how to sit naturally.
Users may experience glitches, including:
- Looping thoughts
- Heart pounding at nothing
- Sudden memory of a thing you said in 2016
- Desire to live in the woods and touch no screens ever again
SECTION 6: BODY IMAGE UPDATE
Your body will change without warning. This may result in:
- Despair
- Denim betrayal
- Mood swings correlated with moon phases or microwave exposure
- A deep hatred of mirrors until further notice
You are advised to refer to yourself only in soft lighting. Avoid reflective surfaces between the hours of 11 p.m. and 8 a.m. for your own safety.
SECTION 7: WARRANTY INFORMATION
Your Flesh Prison comes with no refunds, no do-overs, and a series of escalating existential crises. Side effects include:
- Googling symptoms at 3 a.m. and diagnosing yourself with Too Much Consciousness
- Falling in love with people who say “lol” instead of “I love you”
- Standing in a crowded room and feeling like a missing person
- Wanting to be held and left alone at the same time
This body will expire. You do not know when. There is no backup. Please do something tender with the time.
SECTION 8: SUPPORT & TROUBLESHOOTING
There is no support.
You may attempt the following troubleshooting tips:
- Lie on the floor in corpse pose
- Text “u up?” and then delete it
- Put your face in a dog’s fur and inhale
- Read one poem and pretend it fixed everything
- Let yourself want something ridiculous
If all else fails, scream into a pillow and pretend it’s the ocean.
SECTION 9: ACCEPTANCE OF TERMS
By continuing to exist, you accept these terms. If you do not accept, you may attempt to become a tree, a cloud, or a particularly kind kitchen ghost. We wish you luck.
In the meantime, drink water, apologize less, and please, for the love of god, forgive yourself.
Thank you for using Human Body. Please remember to tip your nervous system on the way out.