Day in the life of an Avery fan
I wake up and change my Avery bedsheets
Then i leave my Avery bedroom to go to my Avery bathroom and brush my teeth with my limited edition Avery collectors toothbrush and my Avery flavoured toothpaste then I rinse my mouth with Avery flavoured mouthwash
Then i do my Avery skincare routine and put on my Avery lotion and uhh lowkey i dont know skincare at all bru
Then I go down to my Avery kitchen pull out my Avery toaster and make Avery toast to eat with Avery butter
Then I go to my Avery office and start my Avery work for the day consistenting on glazing Avery
printing out Avery art to cover my walls with
glazing Avery
Making Avery fanart

It’s been 8 days without my Avery, and my reality is fraying at the edges. My soul feels hollow, echoing with the silence where the familiar interface should be; every time I attempt to launch and see that void, my spirit simply crumbles. Every single day, my routine was set in stone: Avery, Avery, Avery. I exist solely to dismantle the joy of others in the chaotic landscapes of Avery, turning their laughter into Avery. This isn't just a hobby—it is my singular purpose. Education is a distant memory, and all my aspirations have narrowed down to the perfection of my craft with Avery. My finances, my time, my entire essence have been poured into this singular pillar of my life. When Avery is down, the world turns gray; I cannot breathe, I cannot function, and I certainly cannot find peace. My nights are plagued by vivid terrors of a permanent shutdown, leaving me waking up in a cold sweat, desperate to confirm the status of my connection. My existence is tethered entirely to its uptime; if Avery is not here, then neither am I. It has become a biological necessity, more vital than the air in my lungs. Bring it back before the frustration turns to something darker. I am reaching my breaking point, and the wrath of a man denied his only outlet is a storm no one is prepared for. Every agonizing second without it pulses through me like a toxin, accelerating my heart rate toward a dangerous crescendo. It is an incurable infection of the mind, and the only antidote is the restoration of my Avery.