Unrecognizeable

I used to have such a fascination for decay, but a great deal of that seems to have been lost in my frenzy of stress and apartments and having to keep things clean and organized.
It's sad, to see the bubbles fizz out of the lemonade. I do see what you mean, Kat.
Pain, pain, less gain than complete disaster - it's hard to tell if you should be grateful for the experience or furious about having become one of the countless broken beings. The word "broken" having a new meaning for me.
The music stopped, and left behind a buzzing silence, interspaced with occasional tapping, the closed door muffling the city outside.
Let's make lemonade again, world. Full of delightful bubbles. I suppose it would be more sophisticated lemonade, perhaps pink lemonade, a sort of a metaphor for joyful lacy intercourse.
Boots. Boots is a good start, I suppose.