I am in on of those moods where I hate everything and everyone, especially myself.
I hate Instagram and stories and messages and notifications and ringtones and plastic and fries and socks and perfume and hair and light and sleep and my body and rain and mold and dust and exhaustion and silence and waiting and confusion and likes and comments and looks and tears and bed sheets and doors and sweat and coffee and sugar and postponing and betrayal and appearance and melancholy and the number of followers and names and dates and voices and music and heartbeats and clouds and life and -
Update: just had an orgasm. All is well. Life is good.







