Simply stated: I am in love with what cannot be perfected. Timeless things. The hint of ocean water you can smell just before it rains. Sitting on a porch, melting into an oversized sweatshirt, during a thunderstorm, as torrential downpour envelops the streets and sidewalks. The disconnect from all matter. All flesh. All thought.
I'm aching here. My ribcage is too heavy for me to carry today, I heave stuttering breaths--spasming in and out. In and out. I'm staring at the clouded sky, threatening rain, gasping with my arms outstretched. It drizzles, it rains, it pours. I'm soaked.
Soaked. And I'm infatuated with this world surrounding me. "Breathe me in." Infatuated with this imperfect place, my imperfect situation, these imperfect four walls beside me.
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