Everything is a self-portrait. A diary. Your whole drug history’s in a strand of your hair. Your fingernails. The forensic details. The lining of your stomach is a document. The calluses on your hand tell all your secrets. Your teeth give you away. Your accent. The wrinkles around your mouth and eyes. Everything you do shows your hand.
There is no such thing as the past, present, or future. There just is, and it never goes away. I thought about you for the rest of the day. Catching my head turning to find you again. I hated myself for it.
That ending lyric perfectly describes how I felt about my first love.
For the most part, I have been keeping busy and keeping good faith that all of what I have done will pay off in the long run. Most of the time, I’m working and doing some freelance/volunteer design work. It has not been bad, just time dedicated to thinking of ideas and putting it on some type of media or notepad. Hopefully you all are doing well.