番

It's as if electricity has spilt through my veins, sparks are arguing with tenderness, and pride just can't decide to give way. The world feels like it's turned inside out: every sound is defiant, every drumbeat argues with the silence, but from this chaos, something ridiculously alive is born. Love here isn't like in songs about sunsets; it's with wires hanging out, with a sarcastic laugh and bruises on the heart. Everything revolves on the edge between hatred and attachment, between shouting and whispering, between flying and falling. And in this strained dance, there's a strange comfort: if even the sky is fake, why not pray to it sincerely?