Spring was in the air. Season of metamorphosis. Season of letting go. Wandering and wondering, I did feel multiple feels, Listening to Melancholic Indies on Spotify I cried in the shower, but that's okay. It was Sunday afternoon. Is my burning desire, sometimes, I'd love to be dead to the world without a care in my grandma's vintage reusable box. That's okay too. Neither did connection come in the goody bag, Albeit there was a desperate need. That's okay too. Sometimes we are what we choose to live with. To get lost or to stay found It's bound to be our choice.
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