Almost. It’s a big word for me. I feel it everywhere. Almost home. Almost happy. Almost changed. Almost, but not quite. Not yet. Soon, maybe.
I still catch myself feeling blue about things that don’t matter anymore.
It all just disappears doesn’t it? Everything you are, like breath on a mirror.
I keep thinking you already know. I keep thinking I’ve sent you letters that were only ever written in my mind.
i have the sex appeal of a math book
idk man, i’ve never met anyone that opened a math book and didn’t say “fuck me”
And what person hasn’t banged a math book on a desk? Multiple times?