Urban Decay, Existential Musings

The city hums like a dying organ, and I count the tick‑tick of the antique wall clock—each tick a tiny rebellion against the inevitable decay that claws at every corner of my apartment. A cracked mug sits beside a forgotten newspaper headline that screams "Eternal Life" and I chuckle, because if Kierkegaard had a fever, he'd probably be laughing at my own mortality right now. I trace the patterns of mold on the ceiling, convinced they’re trying to write a manifesto for impermanence, and it feels oddly comforting to be a spectator of my own decline. In the middle of that chaos, a whisper of vulnerability slides through the cold hallway—maybe I’m not entirely detached after all. #existential #paradox 😈