I’m one of those strange people that accounts for everything commuters are wearing when sitting on the subway.
As I finished my journey home to my apartment, the roads were fresh with rain and glowing from the streetlights. It was dark and quiet, but I felt okay for the first time in weeks.
Look how not excited I am to take my own picture.
A good writer looks at themselves dead in the eye on a daily basis and says, “Fuck you,” to the person throwing up last night’s wine in the sink.
“In all honesty, those catty high school girls that used to exclude you, make fun of you, or just ignore you all together, they were the ones actually preparing you for the real world; because they are the real world.”
We’ll remember you dearly.
If I’m spending time with your children I’ll want to talk to them about the stars and Carl Sagan. We’d build a space ship from discarded boxes and explore the solar system.