i've always wanted love that was thick and heavy. clinging to me like butterscotch or salt water taffy. to be enraptured in it, to lose time, and focus, and family, and friends, and maybe even emma, god forbid. i'll admit that i am a hopeless romantic, almost disgustingly so. and don't even start with me now because i've already gotten so much shit about it from my homebois.

i feel like sometimes i'm just out to make myself miserable. that i am just some masochistic fool looking for trouble. but i've always thought that life cannot be complete without a few bumps and bruises. i've never understood people who don't like to gamble a little bit, and even understood less people who don't drink.

i've never trusted happiness because it is such a fleeting thing. being content is for housewives.

i'll be in new york til june 4th.