Love, you see, is the one force that cannot be explained, that cannot be broken down to a chemical process. It is the beacon that guides us back home when no one is there, and the light that illuminates our loss. Its absence robs us all pleasure of our capacity for joy. It makes our nights darker and days gloomier. But when we find love no matter how wrong, how sad, or how terrible we cling to it, it gives us our strength, it holds us upright. It feeds on us and we feed on it. Love is our grace. Love is our downfall.
When your sense got that much in common and you been hustlin since, your inception, fuck perception, go with what make sense.
Coming downstairs for breakfast at 12:30PM on Monday a week after losing my job.
Mom: “Hey hun, whats on the agenda today?”
Me: Struggling to focus on anything remotely productive, and contemplating what I am doing on this earth, if I will ever move out and how far I fallen from my previously boundless ceiling. replies “Job hunting”