I miss playing. I miss my imagination. I still write, I still play video games and read comics and skateboard and find ways to stay in touch with the things I'm passionate about, but always with this sense of the world outside of myself.
getting that paint everywhere it bounced: The ground was covered, the trunk of a nearby tree, and a nearby wall were all covered in blue splotches that looked a little bit like fireworks.
AUnd the salt river’s erosionTntil I’m under sheets
Ihis stone face isn’t breaking
F couldn’t have caught the contagion anyway
rom the back room I’m hiding
and you can swim and you can exhaust yourself trying so hard to fight the currents, but a wave large enough to carry you right back to shore always shows up eventually. it always does. then you get burne