My windows are open, it’s very sunny out but it’s only seventy-eight degrees outside. There’s a cool breeze so my room doesn’t feel as stuffy as it did the night before. Yesterday it was hot and humid and sticky. When the weather is like this I always feel really inspired. But that usually gets buried because other members of my house come home and I feel watched and preyed on. Even with my neighbors, I feel too close to them. And I feel like I have nowhere to adventure to without people giving me a look. But I also feel that about everywhere I go. I feel inspired now, and especially since I’m on Tumblr and I’m always floored by the art that I find there – even the really cheesy, fake deep ones. Makes me want to create art. But I’m no good at it. Writing is the extent of my creativity, I can’t draw or paint for shit.
Yesterday I did some hardcore, real-life adulting and I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. It was my last day off
I visited Goodwill the other day and ended up buying a selection of books there, which one I’ve already finished
It seems that whenever I write a new blog post it’s always “been a minute” since the last one. Truth