This thing and I get along much better during the first moments when I had just reached consciousness. Reaching consciousness is like resurfacing for air. And I kind of hate it. I kind of don't. I don't remember half of the things that happen anymore. I'm lacking in everything. But I can't help but feel content. This is it. Is this it? Is. This. It. This is it.
I'm a minimalist. I'm in my head and I even made a dungeon. It's kind of dark. It's kind of cold. It's kind of an echoing kind of empty. I just want to empty everything. I like hallow. I like concave. I like the songs that could fill a cathedral and stuff.
I like to feel the very moments when the wrinkles decide to wear me. Besides, my wrinkles wear me better than I wear my clothes.
A slow and sluggish slack. A failing body. Sunken eyes. Disintegrating...
I'm a minimalist. I'm in my head and I even made a dungeon. It's kind of dark. It's kind of cold. It's kind of an echoing kind of empty. I just want to empty everything. I like hallow. I like concave. I like the songs that could fill a cathedral and stuff.
I like to feel the very moments when the wrinkles decide to wear me. Besides, my wrinkles wear me better than I wear my clothes.
A slow and sluggish slack. A failing body. Sunken eyes. Disintegrating...
