reading and sleeping and reading. sleeping. reading.
there’s been an odd emptiness, which i’ve tried to fill with projects and bad movies and saturday nights playing pool with friends, but it hasn’t worked. nothing seems real or important or even any good, and laundry and bowls of cereal resonate hollowly in an otherwise-empty day. i am unmoored in blank space, sad, bored.
so who wants to see ghost world with me?