make an earthquake
I need a natural disaster to shake me out of this stasis. Ennui.
There are so many things I want. Like a bed frame, treasures chests for my clothes, a purpose, a five year plan, to get nervous and excited and flutters and to cry and mean it, to create, but actually more to create and be acknowledged, to feel pride, to change all my titles, better abs, friends, truth.
When you're little, everyone tells you that you're special, that you're going to be great. But the majority of people are mediocre, just part of the crowd. It's like not wanting to be yellow but to be saffron.
I might be crazy. I might be imagining the disdain.
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