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I'm alone at home for a week. Eating peanut butter straight from the bottle and a banana on my other hand. Watching scientific docus, hearing terrible news, walking in bare feet around the backyard, having a fight with the shower - this is the life I imagined. This is the life that I deserve, perhaps once in a while. This is my face...
Because I'm overwhelmed with all the blessings that I received the past 365 days, I'm drowning in happiness and I can't compose. And I'm starting to think, that writing is sad, words are for lonely beings, meanings are for those who are alone And I believe that I'm not of them, atleast not anymore. ...
