Thank you for ur music. Makes some peoples lives lighter

Long Whale Song

what's it like to hold the hand of someone you love? // interlinked.

interlinked... (symphocat - long whale song)

milk cassette x.mp3 (slowed + reverb)

grief

you are so damaged (blacklist x numb - .diedlonely)

There is a sound I can almost hear, just beyond the edges of my mind—a slow, patient ticking, an unheard countdown to something I cannot name. It hovers in the quiet spaces, in the pause between breaths, in the way the air shifts before a storm.

I do not know what it is counting down to. I only know that it is always there.

Some days, I think it is time itself unraveling, thinning at the edges, escaping my grasp no matter how tightly I try to hold it. Other days, I think it is me. That I am fading, piece by piece, unnoticed even by myself.

I reach for certainty, for something solid, but the future is a blurred thing, shifting like a dream half-remembered upon waking. And beneath it all, a quiet fear takes root—irrational, insistent—that one day I will simply vanish. Not in an instant, not in a moment of catastrophe, but in the slow erosion of being.

I wonder if others hear it too, this quiet pulse of something ending, or if it is mine alone to bear. Perhaps it has always been there, this unseen metronome ticking in the background of existence, and only now have I learned to listen. But listen to what? A warning? A promise?

I do not know. I only know that the counting continues, steady, relentless. And I am left standing at the threshold of something I cannot see, waiting for an ending I do not understand.

the pause between breaths

I am trapped within myself. A maze of thoughts, twisting, turning, folding in on itself until every path leads me back to where I started. I walk these corridors endlessly, searching for an exit, but the walls shift when I’m not looking. What was once a doorway is now a dead end. What felt like progress dissolves into repetition. I tell myself there must be a way out—there has to be—but the more I search, the more I wonder if I was never meant to leave.

The mind is a strange prison—one where the walls are built from thoughts, and every path loops back to the beginning. I take a step forward, thinking I’ve found a way out, only to realize I’ve been here before. Every turn feels like a decision, every choice an escape, but it all leads back to the same hollow space.

There are moments when I catch something different—just for a second. A shift in the air, a crack in the pattern, something almost imperceptible, like the faintest outline of a door hidden in the dark. It vanishes before I can reach it, but the thought lingers: maybe there is a way through, something beyond these corridors of repetition.

It is easy to sink into the weight of it all, to believe that this is all there is. But some part of me still moves forward, even without knowing why. Not in search of escape, perhaps, but in search of something else—a moment, a sign, a sliver of something just out of reach. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s the only way out.

maze

I’m not moving. I can feel it. Every day, the hours stretch on, but I remain here, in this same space. Not moving, not going anywhere. I try to tell myself that I’m waiting—that there’s something ahead, just out of reach—but it’s a lie. I am not waiting. I am stuck, tethered to something invisible, something heavy that keeps me anchored in place.

I try to move. My body aches with the effort, as if every part of me is screaming to break free. But no matter how much I pull, I stay. It’s as though the ground itself is holding me, pressing me into this one spot, and I am too tired to fight it.

I’ve started going for long walks, though. I heard that walking helps you think, that the act of moving forward, even physically, can trick the mind into believing it’s going somewhere. That maybe, just maybe, if I walk long enough, I’ll cross some invisible threshold, a boundary I can’t see, but one that might finally take me out of this place.

wander

Download / Stream:
https://lnk.dmsmusic.co/les_weweresupposedtoleavetogether-1

we were supposed to leave together

too late to be sane

There is a point you cross without noticing. It could be a word you didn’t say, a glance you didn’t return, a door you didn’t walk through. At the time, it felt like nothing. A moment no different from the rest.
And yet, somewhere along the way, you look back and see it — a thin, invisible line, drawn in the dust behind you. And you realize you’re on the other side now.
That’s when the weight comes. The slow, suffocating understanding that there’s no way back. Not because you’re not allowed — but because what you left behind has ceased to exist. Like a bird that landed in your open palm for a heartbeat, and you let it go, thinking it was just a shadow.
Only later do you understand what you held. Only later does your body remember its warmth. And then, the nights become heavier. You lie there, staring into the dark, counting the shapes of something you’ll never hold again.
You tell yourself it was nothing. You tell yourself you couldn’t have known. But the truth is simpler, crueler — you had it. You let it fall through your fingers. And now there is only the echo, repeating in the quiet, long after the world has gone to sleep

never find your way back

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never find your way back

FTBN

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