Desolate roads stretch across a silent expanse, guided only by flickering lights that no longer lead anywhere. Echoes linger in the underground passageways, floating between empty streets and veined alleys. Each moment feels like an unsent message, a hymn etched into the pavement, fading into static and dust. Along the way, color drains from the sky until nothing remains but a tranquil horizon where all signs disappear, and absence becomes the only language still spoken.

Nightdrive to Nowhere

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I Really Can't Deal With This Anymoretgwog

WHICH IS WORSE I WONDER, BEING THE ONE WHO DOESN'T REMEMBER? OR BEING THE ONE WHO DOES?
maybe I don't want to remember
I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW LONG SHE'S BEEN GONE
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