I always thought that staying in your lane is something everyone can and have always been doing, but I’ve been proven wrong time and time again.
Last summer, I saw you on my way home from work.
It’s cold outside. It rained earlier. A small shower that soaks through everything that you wear. It’s classic English weather, or so I’ve been told.
It wasn’t hard to get hold of you. You were online when I sent the message. You might have taken a few more minutes to respond than necessary, but you did anyway, and I thank you for that.
The day we talked, the sun was about to set. It turned the sky pink, out at the sea.
Has anyone ever felt like their name is not their own name? I’ve been feeling this disassociation for a while now. I’m not even sure if I can confidently tell you my name anymore because it almost feels like I don’t have a name. I just am.
For once, the lyrics I’m listening to actually match what I’m trying to write. I don’t know if I talked about her before, though I’m at least 67% sure that I have. She’s part of my life and has been multiple turning points.