Yesterday I had a pear that tasted like plastic.

I cried this morning.

I still don't know what love means, but I have fallen into it.

I want to run and leave everything behind and be a stranger and smoke cigarettes and speak a foreign language and cook in a tiny apartment in France.

The beauty of things overwhelms me constantly.

I have to bullshit a 6 page paper today.

I am drained and exhausted and I want New York in my hair my clothes my face.

Hold strong.

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