So we’ve established that I’m at the mercy of the seasons. And it’s very likely that my emotions are tied to the ends of strings, the other sides of which are wrapped around the fingers of every goddamn beautiful and awful person who has ever touched me. If someone i’ve ever loved in any shape plays on piano keys or tucks some hair behind their ear it tugs me into laughing or crying. i’ve wept for less than an impatient tap on the countertop or a palm below the waist.
thing is…i am the happiest person i know.
in spite of being made of feathers in a tornado.
or because of it.