In July 2020, the question is no longer what keeps you up at night, but who. The options are endless: the guy in the grocery store who touched 5 bananas but bought none. The not-distant-enough relative who compared Black Lives Matter to Orwell’s Big Brother. Jared Kushner, who we’re told is still around somewhere.
Despite all these perfectly logical options, we have definitive proof that Timothée Chalamet’s spectral presence is the real reason you’re still awake at 3am. Here are 5 signs you’re being haunted by Timothée Chalamet.
1. You’re slightly clammy. Now, you might think this is just a side effect of stress and anxiety caused by the pandemic. It’s not. It’s just the cool, ghostly form of Timothée Chalamet mouth breathing on you as he obsesses over your cupid’s bow.
2. You occasionally feel a sharp pain in your side. Again, the internet will tell you it’s indigestion or cancer, but it’s not. It’s Timothée Chalamet’s phantom elbow digging into your ribcage while he tries to spoon you and whisper, “Timothée” in your ear.
3. You have a recurring itch on your neck. Could it be a mosquito bite? Maybe. But it is way more likely to be a dark and deathly curl from Timothée Chalamet’s perfectly uncoiffed head as he recites Keats poems to himself.
4. You hear unusual sounds throughout the house. Was that an aristocrat tutting? Did you just hear a horse? Where is that acoustic guitar coming from? Don’t worry it’s just Timothée Chalamet’s ghost rehearsing for his upcoming role as wraith boy, which is what happens to waif boys after they die.
5. Every time you start to drift off, you feel like you’re suffocating. You might think the lack of qualified leadership in this country caused you to have a mini stroke, but you’re wrong. It’s simply Timothée Chalamet’s massive period-piece sleeves blocking your airflow as he traces the outline of your eyelids again.
If you are being haunted by Timothée Chalamet, the good news is there’s a simple way to get rid of him. Find a nice, juicy peach and then chuck it out the window. He can’t resist a ripe peach.
This article was written by Irma Vep, who’s sleeping fine. Really.