I guess it's just a slight case of Weltschmertz

a chill gust of wind blows a stir through the warmth of the inner city.
much like the one causing my temperature,
the very temper of my nature,
my interior
to drop.

it's coming back to me now. the summer weeks of working magic. too much all happening in a too short span of time.

and my mind and my heart and my soul are having a loud silent row about whether I did right.

it's like this reflection stuns me. opposite attuned waves meet and blank each other out, adding up and creating nothingness.

it's been a while since I felt the need to ramble so. turmoil therapy, I guess. it's better to express something, directly or indirectly, than to lock it up inside.

and it's not even doubt. it's just... eerieness.