“The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be.”
- Marcel Pagnol
i sit on my bed and read lots of shit i’ve written about jobs and life
and how i will have changed in 5 months or 5 years
and with every page i turn, i feel a stab of shame
because on every page i’m different, but today i’m still the same
i’m reminded of all the things that i wanted to do:
“I live among the stars but I need to be the moon“
so i go wash my face in the cold bathroom sink
and then turn to the page with “for him” in black ink:
“i’ve drank lots of wine,
and read lots of quotes,
but nothing will help but you.
just you.”
of all the things i’ve written,
it’s the only one that’s true.
