Silverchair - Emotion Sickness Now

“Addicted to the self-loathing,” he whispered to the peeling wallpaper.

He wasn’t sure. Time had become elastic. He’d spend four hours watching a single water droplet track down the windowpane, feeling a strange, hollow kinship with it. It was just gravity. It was just the way things went down. Silverchair - Emotion Sickness

He felt like a series of disconnected wires. His brain was firing signals that his body refused to catch. For weeks, the world had been a smear of “orchestral tear cash flow”—a beautiful, tragic performance that he was tired of starring in. People checked in, their voices sounding like they were coming from the bottom of a well. Are you eating? Are you sleeping? “Addicted to the self-loathing,” he whispered to the

The rain didn't fall; it hung in the air like a wet wool blanket, gray and suffocating. Inside the apartment, Elias sat on the edge of a mattress that felt more like a raft in a rising tide. The silence was the loudest thing in the room, vibrating with the ghost of a cello melody he couldn’t stop hearing. He’d spend four hours watching a single water

He grabbed a jacket, stepped out into the hallway, and let the heavy door click shut behind him. The "emotion sickness" was still there, a dull ache in his chest, but as he took his first step toward the stairs, he decided—just for today—he was done with the rehearsal. If you'd like to refine this further, let me know: