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the concept of entering a new year when i'm still stuck in the past 7 years ago makes me feel sick.

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new year, no more me.

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2026 is either gonna be my year or my last.

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i wont speak, the silence outgrows the words. i cant feel, my memory seems to be blurred.

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i rip my heart from my chest so the blood hits the ground. i want to make flowers grow from the desolate dirt around.

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how long do i need to wait for something to bloom in my heart? why can′t i live like no other live without this parasite? how should i speak? the silence outgrows the words. how should i feel? my memory seems to be blurred.

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i may wasted 2025 but i'll promise that 2016 will be my year i promise.

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the only thing i did this year was to be addicted to things. so many things.

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well i didn't just think about it, i actually did it and became a fucking addict.

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1:51 wait for the deluge, the flood is the final cure, jeld sacred by the rising tide.

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this body, a relic of ruin, worshipping the things that broke it down. we drink the communion of copper and let the bloodstream slowly drown.

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my prayer is a hemorrhage, a devotion of rust and salt. we consecrate the poison. every remaining, self-inflicted fault.

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born to be the main character, forced to be the family disappointment who they even avoid mentioning their name.

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