I thought the emotional peak had passed.
I thought I had ordered the monsters, whispered the affirmations, made peace with my choices, and settled in to wait.
But no. The wait has its own chaos.
It’s week two of falling down the Labubu hole, and things have escalated in ways I cannot fully explain. I’ve begun dreaming about them. I’m now emotionally committed to construction on a three-story condo made from a retired metal rolly cart. I confessed a lie of omission to the internet. And I’ve started to suspect that one of them is already here—whispering suggestions from the void.
The Labubus have not arrived. But emotionally?
They live here now…
Day 8:
Last night I dreamed of them. My Labubus. They had arrived and we had gone into the countryside together. We sat cross-legged on a quilt in a wide field of purple clover, feeding a unicorn we had slowly earned the trust of. The Labubus were gentle and strange and perfect.
One wore a tiny hat.
One whispered secrets to a bumblebee.
I woke up almost certain I could still feel clover under my hand.
Day 9:
A terrible thought occurred to me in the shower: What if I didn’t order a Labubu at all?
What if it’s a Lafufu—a knockoff gremlin with haunted eyes, a hollow rattle, and the fragile social energy of a toy banished from the Rankin/Bass Island of Misfit Toys? I panicked. Then I made peace with it. Even if it’s not what I expected, as long as it isn’t sticky or smelly, I’ll love it anyway.
Probably.
Day 10:
Asked my Instagram followers what kind of home I should prepare for the Labubu.
Someone suggested a shrine.
Someone else said “containment chamber.”
Day 12:
I decided to convert an old, no-longer-in-service metal rolly cart into a three-story condo for the Labubus. It felt reasonable. Practical, even. That’s when I heard the voice—my Labubu, apparently already exerting influence from the void. “How many of us did you order, exactly?” it asked.
And that’s when I realized: I hadn’t told the internet yet.
I bought two. I only meant to buy one. But at some point—deep in a fugue state—I added a second to the cart. And then I checked out.
I guess it was inevitable.
Day 13:
I keep telling myself they’ll arrive soon. That I’ll open the box, hold them in my hands, and feel something settle inside. But what if their arrival only deepens the madness? What if this is just the beginning? Is this how it started with Doctor Moreau?
Day 14:
It has been 8 days since I ordered my Labubus. The tracking still says “preparing shipment.”
I’m trying not to spiral.
But what if they’re not coming home?
What if they never even existed?
What if I dreamed them into being and the universe is just humoring me with a fake tracking number until I move on?
There’s still no shipping update. Just me. A rolly cart. A vision. And two small monsters I may or may not have conjured into being through sheer emotional instability.
This is fine.
What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever waited for like it was a life event?
Be honest.
Was it sticky?
CamiKaos 