Don't eat the cotton candy. It tastes like the first three months of a relationship—sweet, airy, dissolves on your tongue into nothing, and leaves you sticky and unsatisfied.
The point was that you showed up.
See you in line for the bumper cars. (They’re brutal .) Erosland is open 24/7. Location: right between your chest and your stomach. Enter at your own risk. erosland
So, have you bought your ticket yet? Don't worry about the price. You’ve already paid it a thousand times over in daydreams and late-night confessions. Don't eat the cotton candy
There is a place on the map that doesn’t exist. You won’t find it on Google Earth. The highway signs don’t list it. But if you’ve ever been ghosted at 2 AM, or kissed someone in a photobooth, or felt your stomach drop not from a rollercoaster but from the brush of a hand on the back of your neck—you’ve bought a ticket. See you in line for the bumper cars
Erosland is the strangest theme park you’ll ever visit.
I went to Erosland last Tuesday. I went alone. I rode the Whiplash Coaster with a stranger, and for three seconds on the drop, we held hands. At the gift shop, I bought a cheap keychain that reads "I survived." I lost it by Friday.