I visited a stranger's grave.
A Lover's Quarrel with Writing
Motion. Emotion. Slow motion. Hide my intentions. Show my imperfections. Everyday I'm just trying to get myself into motion.
2pm on a weekday. I'm over this. No more complaining. I'll use that energy to plan my escape.
Stories I Couldn't Tell Her - Part 1 of Countless
When I think of being content, this is what I picture.
On this cold, clear January night, some trick of the atmosphere makes the distant city lights twinkle like stars.
#1: Learn to receive love.
I guess this place isn't so bad. For now.