As I shuffle the deck of tarot cards, anticipation prickles my skin like tiny needles. The glossy images stare back at me, holding secrets and revelations within their intricate designs. With each cut, I can feel the weight of my future pressing down on me, heavy with possibilities and desires. Will the cards foretell my inevitable destiny, bound to a bed by the sheer enormity of my own body? Indulging my insatiable hunger until I become a mindless eating machine lost in a sea of my own excess? The cards hold the key to my fate, and I eagerly await their judgment, ready to embrace whatever future they unveil.
