there's a rushing in me, it gets brought out sometimes, on sunny days, in the bright beats of certain songs and I feel like I have to go, like I have to get somewhere and I know that that place is important, crucial... of infinite possibility, a borderless frontier but damned if I know what the hell it means.
viernes
it's 2 am somewhere.
martes
we're chained.
Acabo de caer en cuenta que Septiembre ha sido el mes menos productivo de todo el año.
Paz en los cielos y en la tierra.
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