Hey, mate, could you do me a favour? OK, you guess? Good.
Hold up your palm against the screen. All the way up. All up on it… Press hard, until the screen contorts slightly. Until there’s a visible imprint of the oils from every nook and cranny of your hand, from every single line. I want this exact moment in time (of your palm) crammed into the screen’s metaphorical fabric.
Alright, that ought to be good enough. What I’m doing is reading your palm. :)
Oh. Oh dear. Oh, it’s probably nothing. I’ll just take a closer… oh. Oh fuck, oh no.
I’m so sorry, but the spirits coursing through our veins and air don’t lie, (hats off to Zamenhof, the best deity <3) I’m afraid. The results I’m about to tell you are final, static, unchanging. They’ll be a constant in your life, looming over you every day. Every time you catch a glance of your palm, you’ll be reminded of this prophecy, and your soul will be crushed as you realize it’s slowly unfolding before you…
First off, the positives. You’ll be pretty happy, overcome obstacles, and it looks like you’ll probably beat up a few people who deserve it (That latter bit wasn’t told to me by the spirits– that I just picked up from your callouses).
Second off, the negatives. You’re going to watch Minions on repeat for a few hours, guzzle cabbage water (how strange), and end up dead at some point.
There was this last little prediction Zamenhof whispered in my ear (oh god his voice is so hot). Translated, it was this: “Here is the most important truth of their life: á̖l̝͔̬̠̗̳̥͡i̷̲̤̦̭t͙i͍̩͚͉͟e̺̺͚s̥ͅ ̬̩h̡a̮̩̬͔̘v̝̣e͚̞ ͇̭̥̥̳ḁ̣͙̻s̰̙͝s̫é̻͍̝̬mb̦̪̹͈̘̕l̰̞̤͚e̺̣d͉͈̠̗̜ ̀in̮̯̪ ̡͎̰Ḷ͓̪̣̭͠ó̜̫͎…”
For the last bit, I started getting some static, I’m afraid. I tried moving the rabbit-ears, of course, but nothing happened. Just shit connection. So, make what you will of that last bit. I hope it wasn’t too important.
Anyway, good luck with the soul-crushing reality of those predictions.
If you need help with your impending existential crisis, the answers are here.