Dissociation Station
You’re here, technically. But also floating three feet above your own body, watching life like a badly written sitcom you didn’t audition for. Time isn’t real, your name sounds fake, and you just realized you’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for 17 minutes. Again.
This collection is for the emotionally displaced and cognitively buffering. Notebooks for when your hand is moving but your brain checked out. Tumblers for sipping on vibes and disconnection. Stickers that belong on water bottles, laptops, or the last remaining part of your identity. Welcome to Dissociation Station—please remain seated, even if you forgot how.
