my bones have become so cold, and my skin so white that it seems like years ago that I would lay on the concrete during lunch hour tanning my legs. [I suppose because it was years ago]
The weather is making my future plans for me.
I am far too influenced by the color of the sky to have any regard for other perks of living anywhere else.
I can't begin to censor myself again. I'm not that person any more. I've made damn well sure not to be that person.
I can't remember the last time I cried out of happiness. Except this morning.
"you'll always be a little sliver...."
the little things.
the littlest things.
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