i keep waiting for the lightning to strike, for the sky to split open and the truth to come crashing down but maybe there is no truth only the echoes of what we wish were true and maybe the waiting is the point like some cosmic joke where the punchline is always just out of reach and I'm laughing but it sounds like crying so what even is the difference anyway and where's beans he always knows how to make me not want to cease to exist maybe I need to paint something ugly something so real it burns i don't know i just want to feel SOMETHING even if it's devastation because feeling nothing is the worst kind of hell.