Vacuism

I love freckles and tattoos, dyed hair and bolshiness.
I place value on sarcasm and perceived depth.
I desperately seek a yogi mind behind Clubwalker sunglasses, hiding a raging awareness of missed opportunities behind a thousand-yard stare.

I feel like I miss the point of calmness.

I’m in love with bits and pieces of people and situations and they are never enough to make a lasting connection.

Why do people even like each other?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *