ahh the last few days felt kinda like a stretched out version of that groggy moment when the sun hits my eyes in the morning and i reach out clumsily and knock everything down on my beloved ikea nightstand that i so desperately want to be neat and minimalist but instead is full of weird notebooks, keys, half read books, pocket sand, and give it so much side-eye for just existing.
i’m desperate for the peace of a consistent sleep schedule and clear head but my bones have been thrumming a waltz i can’t seem to dance to for months straight but it hasn’t stopped me trying. i’m fervid; i’m agitated
winding down and unraveling is a terrifying prospect but it will feel so fucking good.
not even emotional independent dramas with strong female leads on netflix can seem to quench the fervent restlessness pulsating just under my skin.
i kind of like it but
i suppose i should move on to Critically Acclaimed Feel Good Documentaries before this shit turns caustic
ahh man i keep finding myself sitting on curbs in tiny border towns around virginia and her five siblings with dirt all over my clothes and face and hands and thats alright because it’s the summer time and nobody is wearing jackets or giving a fuck and it’s wonderful.
theres blankets and pillows all over the back of my car that i keep getting pulled over in because the rear license plate light is out (which i guess is a personal problem between me and maryland, the only sibling who seems to mind)
i gotta write it all down but i can’t seem to stop moving
