i am unconsciously attached to the experience that anybody that leaves, will never come back.
really, my experience of departures constantly whispers into my ears that, until my ear bleeds and it won't stop until it bleeds elsewhere.

i don't know what to do with myself. i like haunting and torturing my own floating self with memories that i'm likely the only one keeping.

my words are not nor ever was of insanity or ramble, they are truly words of a breathing heart on a different frequency, half expressing half hiding.

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không còn dò dẫm cắn ngón tay trong đêm tối nữa,
chỉ chạy vòng tròn đắm đuối tìm nhau.