It seems to me that people fall apart too easliy. We are all so cryptically similar.
She is.. lost. And she knows it. And he want's to fix her, though he's the reason she was broken. He has no idea who he is anymore. She does not want this again. She is beautifully struggling. We are all beautifully struggling. To decide. To find. To know. To be. We all want to be. The man with the beanie who I slid the fairytale book to at the coffee shop, he wants to be. The boy who should be british, he wants to be. The girl on the banana bridge with the bright pink rainboots wants to be. Okay. We all want to be okay, and content, and sure. But isn't that messy unsure feeling lovely? That messy unsure feeling paints my heart over and over again. And it is lovely. We all want to be okay. Find comfort. Tell stories. Go for a drive. Buy coffee. Run a stop sign. Be.
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