the air here smells like dirt and forgotten plans. i’ve seen better places in my closet, but this stuff? it’s a token gesture. walking through streets where everyone’s either lost or trying too hard to remember why they’re here. some people gloss over basic stuff like weather or roads, while others treat it like a given. it’s exhausting, in a way that feels contagious. even my coffee here tastes like dust. not sure why i’m writing this, but i guess it’s no surprise. the silence here is louder than any crowd. i’ll admit, i’m kinda stuck here, not sure where to go next. what even exists outside of this moment? it’s like a puzzle with too many pieces missing, or worse-no piece. watching people move, some rude, some nice, but all distracted. this place doesn’t care about your depth, just fills space. i wonder if i’ll stay, or leave, or both. either way, it’s a start, but not a finish. the road’s already driving by, blind and slow. i haven’t slept much lately, or is that just a coincidence? it doesn’t matter much anymore. just keep browsing, document everything, even if it feels pointless. the struggle is part of the fun, i guess, even if i doubt it. every second here feels like a sacrifice i can’t refuse, but i don’t know if i’ll ever get it right.

Eventual Disappointment

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