dinohigh, no humans allowed!

be Anon stared at the blank ceiling, faintly illuminated by the pale light bleeding through the window. He shifted under the heavy blanket, the weight of his own thoughts crushing him as he lay there. The muffled, hollow sound of the outside world was punctuated by the distant hum of a smog storm rolling in, carrying the scent of tar and ash through the cracks of his room. The faint tang of burning plastic lingered in the air. It was just another day in the Badlands, where the air itself was poison, and the skies were a sickly red that glowed like infected wounds.

Dragging himself up, Anon shuffled to his desk. The cold of the room bit at his bare feet, the sensation sharp against the lifeless numbness that had settled into him long ago. The fluorescent bulb above buzzed to life, flickering briefly before illuminating the cluttered space. Old soda cans, crumpled papers, and cigarette butts littered the desk like relics of forgotten attempts at normalcy.

Anon flipped open his computer, the screen reflecting his hollow eyes as it booted up. The hum of the machine filled the room, a mechanical heart beating steadily in the background. Outside, the storm intensified, rain smearing the window with streaks of black, as if the sky itself was bleeding tar. Thunder cracked, a jagged sound that shook the walls, and a flash of red lightning illuminated the room for a brief second, making the shadows dance.

He opened the drawer beside him, digging through old CDs until he found the one he was looking for. With a faint click, he placed it in the CD player. The speakers crackled, and then the music burst forth, drowning out the storm for a moment. The opening guitar riffs of "I'm Only Happy When It Rains" by Garbage filled the room, the female vocals cutting through the noise like a razor blade.

Anon leaned back in his chair, letting the music wash over him. The irony of the lyrics wasn't lost on him.

I'm only happy when it rains...

The sound of the rain outside mixed with the music, creating a chaotic symphony of melancholy. The air conditioner whirred in the corner, spitting out frigid air that mingled with the cold seeping through the window. It made the room even colder, the kind of cold that settled in your bones and refused to leave. Anon didn't care. If anything, he liked it. The cold reminded him of something primal, something deeply embedded in his humanity.

"Humans hid from dinosaurs in cold, dark places," he muttered to himself, his breath visible in the icy air. "Must be in my nature to feel at home here."

He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. But the laugh quickly faded, replaced by a creeping heaviness in his chest. He felt like there was a pit in his stomach, a void swallowing him from the inside out. The world seemed grayer, more muted. Colors felt sickly, like they didn't belong anymore. Everything was pale, diluted, and wrong.

But then again, the world itself was sick. So maybe it fit. Maybe he fit.

The song continued to play as Anon opened the DinoBoards—a forum he'd been frequenting for years. The site was a cesspool of humanity's worst impulses, a digital wasteland of nihilism and sadistic humor. It was where he felt most at home.

The first thread he saw was about relationships. People were posting about how lonely they were, how they wanted someone to hold, someone to talk to. Men pined for cute girlfriends or loyal wives. Women posted about wanting someone who understood them, someone who could take away the crushing emptiness. The thread was a tapestry of desperation and longing, and Anon scrolled through it with a mix of disdain and detachment.

He didn't want any of that. The idea of opening himself up to someone else, of letting them see inside him, made his skin crawl. The only thing he had left that was truly his was his mind, his thoughts. And he wasn't going to let anyone else touch that.

The music swelled as he clicked into another thread.

I'm only happy when it's complicated...

This one was about a recent tragedy. A family of dinosaurs had gotten lost in the woods and been mauled to death by giant bugs. The details were gruesome, with pictures and videos that left nothing to the imagination. The forum users were in rare form, cracking jokes and posting memes about the incident.

Anon felt a smile tug at his lips. It wasn't a normal smile—it was jagged and broken, like someone who had forgotten what smiling felt like. Tragedy was everywhere these days, but it seemed to follow the dinosaurs most of all. It was almost comforting to see them suffer for once. To see the pastel-colored monsters brought low by the horrors of the world.

I'm only happy when it rains...

The thread devolved into a montage of horrors. More posts flooded in, each more grotesque than the last. Pictures of war zones, videos of riots, reports of economic collapse. Starving children, burning cities, bodies piled in the streets. The world was falling apart, and the users of DinoBoards watched it burn with glee.

Anon leaned back in his chair, letting the chaos wash over him. He felt a strange kind of calm, like he was floating above it all. The misery of the world was like a storm, and he was at the eye of it, untouched and unbothered.

Pour your misery down on me...

The music continued to play as the rain outside intensified, hammering against the window like a thousand tiny fists. Thunder roared, and the room was bathed in red light for a brief moment. Anon's face was blank, his eyes dull as he clicked through thread after thread.

One thread was a collection of news reports about the rise in teenage suicides. Another was filled with posts from people saying they'd wasted their lives, that they had no one who cared about them. Some were saying their final goodbyes, while others begged for someone, anyone, to notice them before they disappeared forever.

Anon's fingers hovered over the keyboard, but he didn't type anything. What was there to say? He didn't feel anything. He didn't care.

I'm only happy when it rains...

The forum was alive with its usual mix of banter and cruelty. Anon joined in, posting sarcastic comments and laughing at the misery of others. It was a mutual strangership—no one knew his name, and he didn't know theirs. It was easier that way.

Another thread caught his eye. It was about a new trend: random violent attacks against dinosaurs committed by non-dinos. The phenomenon was spreading like wildfire, videos of the attacks flooding social media. Some called it revenge, others called it terrorism. The forum users called it entertainment.

Anon watched the videos without flinching. The violence didn't shock him. If anything, it felt...normal. Expected. The world was a violent place, and violence was the language it spoke best.

You wanna hear about my new obsession?

The thread spiraled into a montage of horrors. Videos of mass shootings, bombings, and hate crimes played on loop. People posted their manifestos, their thoughts of wanting to become serial killers or destroy the world. The darkness was suffocating, but Anon found it oddly comforting. It was like sinking into a warm bath, letting the filth of the world envelop him.

I'm riding high upon a deep depression...

Hours passed, the line between day and night blurred by the storm outside. The rain pounded relentlessly, the sound like a drumbeat in his ears. Anon's room was a cocoon of cold and darkness, the only light coming from the computer screen. He felt at home here, in this pit of despair and chaos.

The world was on fire, and he was happiest when it burned. He laughed at a particularly dark meme, the sound echoing in the empty room. It was a broken laugh, the kind that came from someone who had forgotten what real happiness felt like.

The music faded as the CD reached its end, leaving only the sound of the rain and the hum of the air conditioner. Anon closed his eyes, a faint smile still on his lips. He didn't feel right. But he'd never felt better.