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seriously though I’d live here SO HARD
kinda wish all the happy couples making out along the Siene would randomly keel over and die tho
so yeah
I’m staying in the most amazing studio apartment in Montparnasse with a balcony looking northwest at the Eiffel Tower. everything is brilliant and beautiful, especially on a cloudy day like this, especially the graffiti plastered familiarly on the otherwise alien buildings, and I’m going to go eat something and feel awesome forever, bye.
next stop:
fucking Paris.
the airport in Philly
the customer is always an asshole when she’s my mother
from the cab to the airport
it’s easy to crave solitude when you’re constantly surrounded by people who live with you. but when those you love the most are dead or far away, solitude is the daily routine you learn to despise and hide from and try to change, and though you reach out, you’re so used to being alone that you’re not really consciously aware of how to directly relate to people or see them truly as they are, separate from your own interior, which you live constantly submerged in. and everything seems to become an escape from that which lies within you, an escape from the solitude, just as your solitude is an escape from the pain that company sometimes brings.
love is a transmissible force that flows freely across everything, if you don’t take it it’ll still wash over you and you can feel its pull in your head like you’re lying in bed after a day in the ocean.
life quickly reminds you and everyone else that you aren’t special.
