everything else: today co-star told me do: newsletters
dear internet,
fortune cookie strips accumulating in the back of my phone, my hair the shortest it's ever been, and legs up on the kitchen windowsill, and the fields from the train, the choir downstairs, the late-summer sea, a room i can no longer open, and all the seasonal markers—clementines, supermarket tulips, grassy slopes, rotting autumn leaves, first staticky snowfall—and every time i voice-noted my friends, every time i cried in public, every monthly playlist, and growing so sick of saying the same things over and over again, and sunlight illuminating dirty windows, and playing uno in our heads, and the rabbits, the heron, the horses, the cranes, the hedgehog in the park in the warm velvet dusk, all the purple flowers whose names i'll never remember, the not-knowingest year of my whole life.
love,
t