Exclusive Evil - You Are a Starseed

Destiny probably awaits.

Double tap. I’d be lying if I said I laughed at this a rational amount.

If you love it, pass it on. If you hate it, lambast me in public.

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You are a Starseed.

You were born to be followed. You would also enjoy leading, but the big thing’s being followed. You have a decent number of starlings and are bound for more. You know it’s your destiny. Your destiny has a promoted post.

You are surging.

You once flourished. You moved on once others started flourishing. You are now surging. You post surge guides for your starlings. You wore elf ears once and views doubled. You always wear elf ears now. You don’t like elf ears.

You are light.

You shine for others. You bar negativity from your stream and soul. You find a buzz helps. You keep bottled starlight under the desk. You’re almost out. You tell the stream “Cheers.”

You are low on money.

You’ve heard the cynical whispers of the starless. You know they see a neposeed. You wish that were true. Your diet is flash-frozen. Your rent is a monthly miracle. Your laptop is a gift from a starling. You get daily messages from that starling. You ignore the messages.

You are hung over.

You can quit starlight at will. You also never give up, especially on a friend. You know substances have souls, and all souls deserve love. You quip “spirits have spirits,” on stream. Your viewers praise your wit and new ears.

You are really hung over.

You can hear your past lives, and they’re loud. Your head aches with their wisdom. You wish they’d stop, it’s only 2 PM. You need ten hours of starsleep to maintain starstasis. You pour starlight of the dog and turn on the noise machine.

You are reborn.

You meet a past life in a dream, once the others pipe down. You’re pleased to find a slaveless pharaoh. You post the good news, and a starling mentions appropriation. You stream an apology in your best ears. You promise to focus on white reincarnations. Your views spike.

You are so close.

You’ve outlived peak Vine and Twitch and that box mom watched game shows on. You will outlive Bytedance and Substack and that chat app dealers like. You won’t outlive Meta, but you will be reborn in a golden, Meta-less future. You 2.0 will look upon this life’s statue, and smile. You will be a pharaoh again.

Your leg is falling asleep.

You’ve streamed for four hours. You know that’s too short, and you can’t change position yet. Your leg politely requests fresh bloodflow, and you beg it for patience. You see a superchat come in. You might have to go to urgent care later. You’ll bring the camera, in case there’s a good shot.

You are burning out.

You won’t quit. You touch hearts online, like Homelander. You just skip the madness and keep the inspiration. You inspire over daily five-hour streams. You used to take Sundays off, but that put you further from your pyramid. You won’t let haterseeds win.

You are yelling.

You try to whisper—views rise when you whisper. You read a request for ears. You already have ears on. You read “the good ears.” You explain the destiny of starseeds, the place of starlings, and permabans. You reach for more starlight. You’re out of starlight. You stop whispering and start breaking content guidelines.

You are taking a break.

You tell the starlings you’re flying home. You let them debate if that’s a metaphor, planet, or Oregon. Your sister’s AI thing needs a spokesperson. You don’t really understand it, but they just need someone good before cameras. You’re good before cameras. You belong there.

You were a Starseed.

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Thanks for your eyes. Consider pointing them at my book Everything Abridged. Or my second, How to Dodge a Cannonball. Or just shoving this before other eyes.