(no subject)
if given the chance, i don’t know what i’d do differently. there are reasons we ended up here, and they have nothing to do with the bushwick studio or the uninsulated twoflat or anything in between.
lately my people are dots on a map. indiana, georgia, californ-i-a. miles that may as well be lightyears when you’re alone in your room poking holes in the sky with the lights that shine out your window.
there’s nothing i could do. hearts beat, hands claw, chicago winters will come down hard anyway. my jeans were tight and my makeup right and i made the worst decision. i made the worst decision. i’d - sadly, i’d make it again.
i can blame a year on a calendar. i can blame an inherited trait. i can blame the season, the history, the way i became distracted. but what’s really to blame is the feeling of vertigo, the fall that i love, the addiction that i wouldn’t shake for sandy week times ten - bundled up and in love and feeling so grounded. a tug back, a shove forward, i rely on the windsweep to carry me through like it always, always has.
if given the chance, i don’t know what i’d do differently. the truth is the train rides brought me peace, gave me purpose, passed the time. the truth is i like the power of hazel eyed, curly haired degradation.
i’m having a rough go of it. my people are just dots on a map, a continent away. if i left now, i still wouldn’t see you for days. it’s easy to feel the emptiness in a toasty room on a sturdy bed in a true and telling brooklyn.