Happy Hour

by Marlowe Granados

Often, people who are tired of themselves are inexhaustibly curious.

When we were younger, everything for the first time always felt the best, or at least the Most, and sometimes getting older feels like striking the same chord and it sounding different.

I can tell people are obsessed with themselves, even when they loathe themselves, because they’re charmed with how they do it. I would really like to ask an expert about why this is worth my time.

She was not lonesome. She was full and took up the room.

It’s just that turning a night into some form of romance

takes us out of ourselves. It’s a chance to see who we are through the eyes of someone who doesn’t really know us.

Dangerous, unpredictable, and suspicious. Though it can be tiring, I think it’s the most powerful position to be in.

Trying to kill time with little means is difficult.

The only way to achieve even the veneer of such freedom is to resist being pulled down by the weight of everything.

the older you get, the harder it is to be impressed because people make you feel ashamed of ever being impressed by anything at all. I keep many glowing remarks to myself because of this.

I love the way restaurant sounds bleed onto the sidewalk. Silverware grazing plates and glasses clinking—it is always rich and promising.

you don’t know how to really love them in return because we never ask ourselves enough about what we want. Don’t ever forget you have the ability to choose. Never wait to be chosen by someone who came ready to treat you right.

“I don’t want you to have feelings about my feelings.” I want to be heard without consequence because to be heard is such a novelty.

I guess I, too, only feel desirable when I’m holding back, when I keep something for myself.

Sometimes the most irritating situations stay with you because of the nothingness of them, how there was so much potential and yet nothing came of it.

Is the humming of fans the sound of summer?

It’s funny how seamlessly nights end and mornings begin, and yet they feel quite different.

Unmoored and drifting, we were only holding on to each other for the sake of a shared history.

People hate when girls act like they’re invincible. Deep down they know how easy it is to take that small power away, how fragile the feeling! How far we fall.

Daylight crept through the windows, a reminder that things are always going on without you no matter what.

If time can go on, I can too. Each day can carry me on its wave till months and years have passed.