L

Seven years is a decent amount of time to learn a new language, change a couple of jobs, and perhaps even stop waiting. But no. Time goes on, people change, but inside, it's still the same dead end of "what if." The warm habit of suffering esthetically: looking back at someone who has long been looking the other way, and comforting oneself with thoughts of "karma" and "everything happens for a reason." Sad naivett, packaged in a beautiful melody, where each line is like an old notification that you're somehow reluctant to delete.