Julian’s voice hums through the static,
"Can’t you see I’m trying?"
and yeah, I am.
Trying to stay awake
inside the rhythm of repetition.
Every day feels rehearsed,
coffee, clock, conversation.
I tell myself it’s fine,
that everyone lives like this.
That maybe The Strokes were right!
no one really knows what they’re doing,
we just pretend it’s something.
"I don’t even like it",
but it fills the hours,
and maybe that’s enough.
So I keep going,
half-tuned, half-tired,
waiting for something to change
or for the song to end.
Oct 22, 2025
Oct 22, 2025 at 10:14 PM UTC
Julian’s voice hums through the static,
"Can’t you see I’m trying?"
and yeah, I am.
Trying to stay awake
inside the rhythm of repetition.
Every day feels rehearsed,
coffee, clock, conversation.
I tell myself it’s fine,
that everyone lives like this.
That maybe The Strokes were right!
no one really knows what they’re doing,
we just pretend it’s something.
"I don’t even like it",
but it fills the hours,
and maybe that’s enough.
So I keep going,
half-tuned, half-tired,
waiting for something to change
or for the song to end.