I don’t even know what I’m saying right now.
Sunflowers. Sunshine. Styles.
Everything is still.
I am trapped between glass and Time holds the key.
Just hang with me and my weather.
It felt like this entire cast was just shouting at me.
If it seems like I’m on edge, I am.
In which I share entries about crossing a road from a journal I kept while I lived in London.
Don’t forget your headphones, and you’re gonna be just fine.
I am not your critic.
Dear Reputation, goodbye and thank you.
People keep singing about my life.