orphanage w/ langen

hi, mummy. it's so nice that my little amnesia is progressing 👼 i feel so sleepy. i'm almost at my limit. it's starting to get cold. i barely have enough energy to make some tea before bed on this nasty day with its dreary weather they never lay down their weapons completely, and they’re never honest from the very beginning, yet they demand honesty from you through deception. they don’t care how i utilise what they leave behind i know there's no point in saying any of this. they don't need my real food for thought. they need me to endlessly comfort them, cherish them, pamper them, and give them my energy. like a mother. and they'll keep parasitising like infants, draining my strength the way they drain milk from breasts. and on top of that, they'll make me look like the bad one it's already five in the evening. my throat hurts. i've caught a cold. it's shivery. it hurts to swallow. i've taken care of everyone. the price is my heart — everyone around me is warm and cosy except me. they all need my emotions. i'm dried up, i gave everything i had, and nobody gives a shit how i feel. they keep saying love is infinite, but mine ran out last fall. i suppose all my "i like u" already sounds pretty… plastic now maybe. something twists inside me when i say it to anyone. it feels unnatural i was really upset back then, and the whole uni still knows about it. i couldn't warm up. there are strange people around who are only interested in leeching on someone else's resources — even when it's obvious that those resources are running low. i'm tired of talking to them they drool and devour my sadness and unmet expectations with appetite, asserting themselves by making me feel guilty because it suits them. they don't give a shit that it's tearing me apart, and that from the very start i was kind and merciful i barely had any warmth. i only just recovered from my kents. it was warmer down south. i shouldn't have rushed back. mummy, how long is this going to last?

hi, mummy. it's so nice that the amnesia is progressing i feel so sleepy. i'm almost at my limit. it's starting to get cold. i barely have enough energy to make some tea before bed on this nasty day with its dreary weather they never lay down their weapons completely, and they’re never honest from the very beginning, yet they demand honesty from you through deception. they don’t care how i utilise what they leave behind i know there's no point in saying any of this. they don't need my real food for thought. they need me to endlessly comfort them, cherish them, pamper them, and give them my energy. like a mother. and they'll keep parasitising like infants, draining my strength the way they drain milk from breasts. and on top of that, they'll make me look like the bad one it's already five in the evening. my throat hurts. i've caught a cold. it's shivery. it hurts to swallow. i've taken care of everyone. the price is my heart — everyone around me is warm and cosy except me. they all need my emotions. i'm dried up, i gave everything i had, and nobody gives a shit how i feel. they keep saying love is infinite, but mine ran out last fall. i suppose all my "i like u" already sounds pretty… plastic now maybe. something twists inside me when i say it to anyone. it feels unnatural i was really upset back then, and the whole uni still knows about it. i couldn't warm up. there are strange people around who are only interested in leeching on someone else's resources — even when it's obvious that those resources are running low. i'm tired of talking to them they drool and devour my sadness and unmet expectations with appetite, asserting themselves by making me feel guilty because it suits them. they don't give a shit that it's tearing me apart, and that from the very start i was kind and merciful i barely had any warmth. i only just recovered from my kents. it was warmer down south. i shouldn't have rushed back. mummy, how long is this going to last?