I should’ve worn a sweatshirt. It’s been raining all day.
After 75 minutes of meandering philosophy, (trying to one-up your peers doesn’t get you anywhere closer to the truth) (am I in love because you are perfect or are you perfect because I am in love) I walked home, if I can call it that. My clothes became wet in slow-motion, staining my t-shirt the color of blood. It looked and it felt like I was bleeding, that the entirety of my flawed existence was publicly visible,
seeping through wet clothing.
But then the bleeding stopped, I was inside my halfway house, and I stood still. I reflected on everyone I saw with hoods, jackets, umbrellas. There’s so much desire for everyone here, to be something. What something…
I trudged up the stairs, opened your door, and, dripping with water-blood, I confessed.
“I have come to grips with the fact that I will never be a perfect human being.”
