out:
romanticizing a past you were never content with
fearing a future that hasn’t come to pass
ordering an appetizer as your main meal
rose-tinted goggles
being scared of the way your body looks in that swimsuit
caring what anybody thinks of the way you look in that swimsuit
not going swimming even when you want to go swimming
covering up during a heat wave
clinging to a dirty ghost
lying in bed for all of sunday
scaring pigeons
going on your phone at the museum
pretending you like [insert album] just because your classmates do
making a religion of your suffering
saying things like, i’m never getting over it.
in:
storms outside your window at six in the morning
mango frozen lemonade
weightlifting
old folk records and bonus points if it’s highway 61 revisited
heart-shaped sunglasses from the thrift store
watching football
taking walks
telling your mother what’s been going on
mending pieces of broken jewelry
reading the book that has been on your bedside table for the last six months
practicing little devotions
practicing letting go
cobblestone city streets
travelling
the pervasive practical belief that you are going to change your life, if only a little.
all my love,
arden