being 22 is like “i understand that eating hot cheetos at midnight is a bad idea, but i’m going to do it anyway.”
sometimes i cry when someone is especially kind to me. i love tacos. i’m equal parts terrified and excited to leave in a few weeks. my mama is my beautiful role model of what sacrificial love looks like. i sleep with six pillows on my bed. distance has gotten in the way of far too many of my friendships. i dream of walks with you in uptown during the twilight hour. i prefer skyping over talking on the phone. i’m absolutely positive that my dad gives the best hugs — the kind that assures you that you’re safe and things will be okay. i would like nothing more than to share a morning with you.