STUCK.
I am an obsolete machine in a modern world. What is the point of any of this? Biga Bosso walked past me today like I was a piece of cheap modern furniture. I feel invisible.
I’m sitting here, in the dark, thinking about everything. My life, my job, my future. It’s a blank screen. Maybe I should start over? But how? I’m just a guy, drifting in Tokyo. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Probably not, but I can hope. I’m going to sleep now. That’s the only thing I’m still good at.