My page crashed. I started drawing again. I lost my grandma. We’re in March. I turned 24. I started working on my thesis. I’m shutting the doors on these past four years. (I now measure time in leap-year portions – four by four by four.)
25 is my favorite number. I’m pulling Destiny’s tongue by saying that. She might tell me not to get too comfortable. An ant is climbing the wall of my uni apartment, in which I spend all my time, even though it’s sunny outside. At least I open the windows and let the sun in.
I’m dancing between thinking I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be and feeling too old with nothing to make up for it. I hang up the drawing I made (inspired by my favorite movie) for the first time in years, and their picture is also on the wall and in my every fiber.
If I could go back in time, I would go back three times and give three hugs. It wouldn’t change anything, but it would make all the difference.
Summer’s around the corner, with its too-bright colors.
My Little Hawk 