The cries of bruised egos mantle my thoughts tonight.
I think of the time when I was six and swinging on this swing and the sun was
setting and I just kept swinging because I truly believed that I could reach
the sky. A cup of tea and your memories keep me warm on this cold bitter night
in late-March. As winter and March refuse to line up, so do my thoughts. The
universe is restless in its infinities and you are restless in your thoughts
and perhaps the two aren’t different at all. You close your eyes for a few
minutes as your favorite song plays. You already know all the words by heart.
Heck, they’re probably a poster in your room. But you feel the impact of those
words again. You notice a phrase that you loathed once that now fits in your
life perfectly. It's a weird coming-home-after-months kinda sensation. The only
difference is, you can finally smell what your home smells like.
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