1. Everyone you know is made of dead stars. That ring on your finger, too. Contemplating infinity is so impossible. The universe, as always, makes me feel small. We are made of bits of it, though. Universe swoops through our veins and out of our nail beds. We're stardust through and through.
2. The early nineties are singing their siren song to me right now. I want velvet, a perfect denim jacket, things made of expensive lace. Everyone is wearing heavy boots, too. If I haven't lived through these regrets yet, am I allowed to wear pleated pants and crop tops? I've been told to make my own mistakes.
3. You're probably sick of hearing about my bones. Today, though, my ribcage is going to split open and ooze out the liquid sand of complacency and stillness.
4. Some songs are perfect.
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