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Greeting

the feeling of someone else's gaze on you didn't wash off your body, like the touch of that huge trigger, soaked through with childhood resentment and pain. the carcass deceived its own brain, when once again there was not a single soul behind its back. maybe just paranoia? if only it were as innocent as a joke. the feeling of persecution has been with you for half a year, as if your life was someone's favorite movie. and even if it were, it would be a black and white movie that would be turned off halfway through. after all, it is a meaningless cycle, in which the only alternation is between aromatic creamy coffee and bitter cold grounds in the morning. like a painting from a canvas that has lost its place in a museum and forgotten somewhere in a storeroom. the only change that you certainly noticed was the unmistakably strange behavior of your friend, that he didn't sleep at night, didn't eat, didn't pay much attention to hygiene, and avoided you. naturally, he won't tell you about his problems, he hasn't opened up that much yet. (FULL IN MANUAL) (tgk. spermabacterium lipovirus)

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