The one that makes me want to give all my belongings away, burn my journals, get a new tattoo and go somewhere far from here where everyone’s a stranger, including me.
It’s a summer’s night, only it’s not. It’s cool and the sky is pale and I’m experiencing that odd feeling when it’s supposed to be hot; a strange sensation that what’s meant to be a season is actually a lifetime and I’m going to wake up tomorrow and find I’m 90 and life has passed me by.
I don’t know why I feel this way; I only know that I do.
You don’t need to explain the pieces of yourself that other people simply won’t understand. You don’t even need to understand them yourself. You just need to accept that those beautiful pieces are what make you, you.