Young Writers Society

life is funny. i passed by a person i used to know really well in the corridor today, and neither one of us actually acknowledged the other's presence. i don't know how drifting-away happens, but it's weird to know that you're always dangling one foot in the currents your entire life, your other limbs being torn from your body every time the current drags you off--and those same stumps regrowing, like we're starfish, new presences filling those absences within us even if it's never the same.

life is funny. and i'm tired. and i'm going to bed.