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Nothing is perfect in this world, and allowing something to show its cracks should be beautiful.
Whenever I’d throw a mini tantrum when I was a kid, my mom would turn to the witnesses in the grocery store or the library and just shake her head and say, “She’s an Aries,” as if they should know that meant I’m stubborn and I have a temper and I hate being told what to do. And I do. I really, really hate being told what to do. I level my shoulders, bunch my hands into fists, and stare into those bright, bottomless eyes of the Demon King and say, “No.”
See what that temper has gotten you into? Rainy baby, you have to stop and breathe and think these things through.
Fear keeps us all in our boxes, locked away safe and sound.
have I done anything to change it? No. Because it’s safe. Because doing it means I don’t have to take any big risks, it means I don’t have to face failure, or discomfort.
“Like you’re always chasing a drug,” she would say, “but you don’t know what the drug is.” She’s not wrong. I feel like I’ve been searching for something my entire life, but I don’t know what that is, and now not only do I not have something better, I have something worse—a
