I'm tired. Not whiny, I don't want to clean my room tired but a kind of tiredness that's filling the hollow spaces in my bones with lead. Times like these, I rewind over every insignificant detail or decision that's gotten me here. Like deconstructing a game of chess. Only, in reality, I can't separate the black from white and put everything in their own, neat squares. So I make rose tea, listen to The National and eat apricots.
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