I like me most days, but others it feels I’m sprinting a fourth overtime. I want to pop my head off for a while and rest it on the bookcase. I want to go to bed. it’s frighteningly possible to love all the people I love and still forget how to sound like myself in conversation. can someone tell me if I’m making any sense these days? was my inflection too high just then? I’m waiting for a five-day weekend from my life and then I know, I’m mostly sure, I’ll be fit as a fired gun after. please iron out all my brain’s pink wrinkles. please excuse me for such a long intermission. sometimes I’ll forget what I’m looking for while retracing all these steps back to me.
ijeoma umebinyuo // hyatt moore // class of 2013 by mitski // i, tonya (2017) // ? // gustav klimt // ? // lady bird (2017) // i remain in darkness by annie ernaux
The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.
