moonchild

seoul: feeling claustrophobic in your own skin, you wish you could strip it off of you. home never felt so foreign, but where else is there to go? nails dig themselves into your thighs, but even then the pain is numbed.

moonchild: watching the dusk turn to dawn, and dawn to dusk. time moves, and it slips through your fingers the more you resist. “it’s okay,” you think. the fireflies in the sky blink in agreement.

badbye: lurking beyond the edges of your vision, it is a shadow. it is looming, a thing of darkness and coldness. in your blindness, you scramble to find purchase on something—until you feel cool glass under your fingertips. a mirror; it was you.

uhgood: swirling like whiskey in a bottle, your thoughts feel like lead in your brain. there are sights to see, things to achieve—but you stand as stagnant as the puddles after a storm. your mind is a jail, and you are its prisoner.

everythingoes: there is coffee trickling down the side of your cup, but you choose to watch the sun rise beyond the horizon. the final boss stands idly, waiting for your arrival but you pause to taste the scenery instead. there is no need to rush—the sun will come and go regardless. they will wait for you.