leaning out of the attic window at 3 am on an august night, a light breeze blowing and rustling the leaves of the trees. all is silent except for the gentle whispers of wind and the distant rush of the sea beyond the cliff. the crescent moon shines overhead, surrounded by fathoms of glittering stars. reality seems different at this time. nothing to worry over, no deadlines to rush to, no one to talk to. just the clean coastal air and these mid-night vibes
YOU ARE READING
my crappy, existential thoughts dump
Randomnote from the far future, in much better times; consider this book a diary, an archive, a live day by day biography- of the lowest point of my life so far. draw entertainment from it, by all means, but take it as a warning, of all the bad that comes...
