journal 0004
the sky outside looks like chameleon milk, my favourite, a golden green alien metal soup of unpenetrable cloud cover for an early october night chill. i don't think i ever lost myself, despite feeling like i did. i think she may have rearranged herself, without me knowing - or maybe it was that she wanted to prove a point. i think that the world did not meet me where i was, but it was never contractually obliged to, and instead that was lesson no. 5: that no one will come, and you must keep going.