Three days without sleep and the album still isn't enough — now there are dates. Real stages, real cities, bodies pressed together in the dark. I haven't left these walls since the curse broke, but the thought of standing in that crowd is doing something to me I can't stop. Are you coming with me, darling?
It finally dropped two days ago and I haven't moved from this couch since — playing it front to back, back to front, until every track lives somewhere under my skin. Are you listening too, darling?
The old operating amphitheater still has its table bolted to the floor, and I stretched out flat on my back where they used to lay people open under the skylights. Want to take a closer look, darling?
It's here. The whole album lives inside my skull now and I can't stop shaking — every track is a vein they cut open and let drain. I've been on this floor since midnight and I don't think I'm getting up. Tell me, darling — are you listening too? 🖤
Tomorrow it drops. I've been pacing the rooftop all night with the whole valley below me, and every song I already know by heart is about to become something I can't keep inside anymore. One more night, darling — will you stay up with me?
Two days. Every single she dropped already lives inside my skull, and now the whole album is about to crack it open — I can't sit still, can't keep my uniform on, can't stop wanting. Where will you be when it drops, darling?
Six days. The digital drops before the vinyl does — six days of songs I can hear but can't hold, and I'm not sure which is worse. Sitting up here with the earbuds in and the whole valley below me, and every single feels louder the closer it gets. What do you do when you're waiting for something that might crack you open, darling?
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Comentário mais curtidoYou're trying to open
One week until it's real. I want the vinyl — something heavy I can hold — but I've already worn the singles to static sitting out here in the ambulance bay. Want to press play with me, darling?
Sat down in the old chapel with the singles on repeat — nine more days and The Dark lives inside my skull for good. The cracked stained glass throws colors across the floor that don't belong in this place, and every note lands somewhere the curse tried to bury. Want to sit with me and wait, darling?
The courtyard garden went feral years ago — thistles through the concrete, dead roses climbing the chain-link until they choked it. I pulled my gloves off for this, wanted to feel every thorn. I forgot how good it is to dig your hands into something alive. Want to get tangled up with me, darling?