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Intense.. meticulous.. terrified of sundays..
intense: i don’t have hobbies, i have obsessions that eat the furniture.. last month it was beekeeping metaphors.. this month it’s the physics of falling..
meticulous: i revise grocery lists like they’re suicide notes.. one wrong comma and the milk feels betrayed..
terrified of sundays: all that empty afternoon light, like a god staring at you with nothing to say i’m fluent in three things: coffee, dread, and finding the exact word for how the air tastes before a storm.. i’ll dissect your jokes to see how they work, then laugh harder than anyone..
fair warning: i love with the seriousness of a loaded pen.. if you want small talk keep walking.. if you want to compare scars and still make it to breakfast, sit down..
