Nov 5 · 1 min read
The Present Is a Metaphysical MacGuffin.
Finally I’m still.
I haven’t always loved who I am, but I finally do. I want to be all I can be, and to be okay with that.
It’s as though I’ve entered a cave through a waterfall. Despite the frantic nuclear sun shining red through my eyelids, I’ve finally fallen asleep.
The moon has never been fuller. The tension in my neck isn’t gone, but it’s different now. Rounder…

