i haven’t left my room in four days except to argue with the corner store cashier about whether they discontinued the only iced coffee that keeps my brain functioning.

the new songs are getting weirder. they sound faster, like running away from a bullet train. i keep re-writing verses because every time i listen back i feel ill. if we don’t wrap up tracking soon my computer is going to explode.

my songs know what you did in the dark.

love/hate,

orihime