From Studio 4°C/Taiyō Matsumoto’s Tekkonkinkreet.

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(via idahiga)

it’s self-destructive the way i let one hour of my weekend fuck up my mind for the rest of the week… he really shouldn’t fill my list of worries and anxiety as much as he does when we’re nothing, but i can’t stop the wondering. with every disappointment that’s been happening, with every bastard that’s been treating me like shit, i somehow still held high hopes that saturday would be the one day of promise.

in retrospect, i should’ve seen it coming, but now i’m just left with useless thoughts and physical numbness, like a hunger that doesn’t call.  and despite the short highs of this week, i just haven’t really been myself.

my bones are achy.