Joshua

  • Joshua

    REPETITION.

    I’m doing the same things, day after day. It’s like I’m stuck in a loop of a broken video game. Does Biga Bosso ever change his shirt? Does my apartment ever get warmer? The answers are: no, and also, no. I’m just living for the weekend, and the weekend is just for sleeping.

  • Joshua

    TIRED.

    I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. My mind is always racing with petty grievances. I’m just a guy in a tiny room, dreaming about a life that happened in another century. Is that crazy? Maybe. I just need a win. A real, actual win.

  • Joshua

    ROTTING.

    It’s cold. It’s so cold in this room I can see my own breath. I spent the weekend reading about 1950s social norms, just to feel something that wasn’t this crushing disappointment. I am just rotting away in my own personal, un-heated purgatory. Does it ever get better? Or do we just get better at tolerating the cold?

  • Joshua

    GLUM.

    I feel like a discarded suit in a dumpster. Why do I even bother? I’m just going through the motions. I’m playing some retro RPGs, but even the 8-bit characters look happy compared to me. I need a change of pace. Life is a cruel joke, and Biga Bosso is the punchline. *sigh*