eight.

The morning was short on time. The day was full of so much mediocrity that you actually looked forward to the uneventfully planned night ahead. The night seemed to follow the same trend. The setting? A recurring theme. The music? The same. The feeling? So familiar. How many times have you been here before? How many times have you heard this song? How many times have you felt so incredibly detached, yet so connected to everything? Pick a number and I’ll give you a thought. My mind wanders. I wonder.