اگزیستانسیال

1:50 the birds outside chirp your words, but they perch too high from your view.

you're alright, just stray from the green in their eyes. bruised your lungs. paper thin are the walls. knot your tongue from the bloom.

be insane, be free.

sometimes you need to act insane about it to survive it.

hopefully i didn't overreact. (I killed them with a pump and kept on hitting to the stage that their brain pour out of their eyes)

i need to crashout like 28 times per day to get stable and ready to survive another fucking day.

whenever I'm closer than 1 inch to any sharp things I start fantasizing about how i would look when it's stabbed in my chest.

and i know i'm the one pulling it closer. my very existence, a silent catalyst for ruin.

2:22 what purpose is there in trying to brace against it? my hands, they're just empty air, they've always been. i see the inevitable end, a black hole opening wide.

the pieces will fall, they always do and i'll be there. a part of the debris. there's no point in screaming the sound would just be swallowed by the coming silence.

"ready?" FUCK NO I'm not ready for anything or anywhere nor anyone.