What is it that draws me to believe I am worthy of love? What makes it so easy to believe that I can choose when to change, when to find and when to break? Is it the privilege of youth? Is it the pillow of social capital? The great stories that I can always tell?
sometimes, I am sad that you're not there to tell me to stop, to chill out, I wish you'd play sponge bob songs in my mind, the thought of you irritates my soul because it is the only thing that calmed it down
I was acutely aware of how quickly the experience of beauty dissipates and is replaced by boredom and the dullness of obligation.