There is a weird, slight pain present in the posterior part of my neck that, I believe, is slowly building up. For whatever reason it purports itself to be doing, the consequences of the events that transpired during devising would not have varied if at all, and more likelier to have jet-fuelled the burning agony further. So basically I am fucked up either way.
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.