i am tired.
there is sunlight coming in through my window.
soft blankets, nice breeze, gentle hum of my laptop.
empty glass of apple juice, about three pounds of rice in my stomach.
gadget sprawled out on my floor, no homework.
occasional text message, nikon digital field guide, and service opportunities.
editorials, key club, and striped sweaters.
electric guitars, kittens, and the much-appreciated, awkward brush of the futuristic shades boy.
self-appreciation, college research, growing up.
thunderstorms, common courtesy, eight minutes of life.
it feels like summer in the one moment where it is everything but.
i am without a care in the world.