There's a weird thought about having parties in Sundays. It just doesn't feel right, innit. I still would, nothing's keeping me from having fun. But it usually is Fridays and Saturdays that capture everyone's go-to day. Understandably so since tomorrow is then Monday, first day of the week for most people and first day of work for the majority of everymen around the globe. I wasn't out on Friday or Saturday so this doubles up as reimbursement for my stress-induced week. Being bed-ridden without anyone bothering on worrying is the shit.
Dark, darker, darkest, there is no difference. All hurts the same. Pain, everlasting, lingering. Pain, day and night. The hours are uncertain. Anything can happen now. Thinking about it hurts. Truth is unreliable. The romance is dead. My heart, it is lost. Unrecoverable, hateful, distrusting. Wishful, perhaps, but I have lost everything before and survived still. This one was special. So special. Embittered, the tip of my tongue tastes. The flavour of my life. Cuisine of kitchens unwanted. It burns, to the heart. I do not understand. I do not understand.