maybe it’s me. maybe i’m different. maybe i’m too independent. maybe i hate small talk. maybe i’m twisted. maybe i’m weird. maybe i’m not…
The urge to jump. To run. To dance. All the external inferno fuelling a dream, a sense of satisfaction that is simply…
They play with your feelings, they play with your supposed schedules.
1am – as you look out the window, to the opposite block, you’ll see a boy. hunched over a black wooden desk with a…
8am. My eyes shoot right open. Gravity is my enemy here, refusing to allow me to pull myself out of bed.
Seven tables. 15 seats. Pastries line one half of the counter display while cans & bottles fill up the other.
a plea i make every night before i go to bed. a prayer i mutter to no one in particular. a hope i cling onto…
Eleven hour shifts. Money on my right hand and tickets on my left. Meaningless “thank you”s and “please come again”s leave my…
