(no subject)
I've been waiting for the right time. It seems all my time is left behind. My time is popcorn cakes. Air in the middle. Barely satisfying. What I need is time made of rubber. Flexible yet substantial.
If love were a food, it would be frosting. Not exactly necessary, but makes things a whole lot more enjoyable.
If I were a food, I’d be old people food. Something you can stand, but not what you go looking for in the cupboards. Jello mixed in with your mashed potatoes. I need someone who can handle that. I need someone who likes my jiggly jello.
If hate were a food, it would be a cake that looked beautiful and delicious, but inside it would be runny rotten egg yolks and mashed pickles. Disappointment is sadness.
Life as a hampster. On a running wheel. If only I could pretend I was moving. Too smart to ignore. Or maybe, not smart enough.