I’m thinking of publishing a little book of writing and photos and random shit but I don’t even know where to start oh my god
In that space between my heart and diaphragm was the fear I always feel before writing, when my soul is poised to leap alone.
I cannot wait for the day when my life is my own. When every piece is anchored safely, because it’s really hard running after all of these helium balloons floating away without me. Things will be solid in the future but that day feels so distant.