flying through the air held by barely anything, garlands of red flowers, disappearance, wet and slippery floors and raindrops upon my head.
someone take me away.
the new year's barely started, and the ratio of shit that's happening to the good stuff is something like
124568765432: 1
shoot me.
i recall a conversation i was having with singyi yesterday at harry's.
me: if only i really had nothing to live for. death would be an open option.
her: but really, we should ask ourselves, the things that are supposedly the barriers between us and death, are they really the things?
i wonder, if i was able to bring myself to not care about the people i do, would i still be alive?
life's a bitch.
really.
and slowly, the colours are fading to black and white.
