Screw this group of guys with their douchey swagger walking around here like macho dudes, harassing me and my coworkers, and cat calling at pretty much any pretty woman.
Fuck those guys I wanna punch something.
you look outside. the sky is blue. you know this. this specific frequency of light is called blue and that is the sky. you know this, but you are numb. the sky seems to be crashing down.
you will leave your bed today. in an hour. two maybe. you will leave your bed tomorrow.
you will leave your bed today. you need to shower. and eat. you will leave your bed today. you sleep a dreamless sleep. shower can wait.
was air always this cold in the mornings? or maybe you no longer have thick skin. maybe the wind blows through the cracks to the very marrow of your bones. maybe this is how it feels to be fragments.
the bruise on you neck fades. you stare at the mirror for an hour, trying to glimpse just a trace.
you think there was a time you could listen to people and understand what they were saying. not anymore. everyone knows you can’t hold a conversation under water.
you used to share coffee. you finish it this morning. you feel sick. maybe caffeine was never your thing.
your mother thinks you should put all of his things in a box. she doesn’t understand you can’t imagine holding them again.
you delete his texts. no, there are no words that would make this better.
you laugh. the joke is corny, but you laugh anyway, and it feels a little bit like your core is starting to heal.
you cry. seeing him feels a little bit like your lungs are beginning to bleed.
did you love having carrot cake on sundays, or did you just love the way he loved it?
the concert tickets arrive. you forgot there was a time you made plans. you throw them in the trash.
you put his things in the box. not everything. not the photos. you think your tears got less salty over the last five weeks. is that a thing?
your mother changes your sheets. they don’t feel fresh. they feel like end. you don’t sleep. you text him. you never look at the reply.
you see him. you breathe. the world does not shatter.
there is a beauty in the morning sun.
you miss carrot cake.
you put the photos in the box without looking.
you see him with a girl. you stare. you can’t look away. you drink until the world is spinning.
bathroom tiles under your cheek. you cannot keep doing this.
you kiss a boy without a name. you cry after.
the boy without a name has a name, and it makes your heart tingle.
the sky is blue. beneath the clouds. you can feel it on your skin. the warmth that comes with healing.
you open the box and look at the photos. it hurts in a place you cannot name. it makes a storm rage inside your head. but you know yourself well, you are your own tether; you are a survivor.
the boy without a name is nameless again. you are ok. you feel the life pulsing through your veins. you are ok.
you order decaf and a carrot cake. you read a book in the window of your new favourite cafe. you are alone, but not afraid. you are learning to love the person you’ve become.
It happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are and what you want, and then you realize that people you’ve known forever don’t see things the way you do. So you keep the wonderful memories, but find yourself moving on.
“It was kind of based on us being older and being at a party, kind of, at this house seeing everyone that you’ve ever fallen out with, everyone that you’ve ever loved, everyone that you’ve never loved.” You can’t find the time to be in each other lives and you’re all thrown together at this party when you’re like 50, and it doesn’t matter and you have so much fun and you feel like you’re 15 again. So, that’s the kind of vibe of it, really … My favorite lyric in it is, ‘You look like a movie, you sound like a song / My god, this reminds me of when we were young.’“