No matter how far wrong you've gone/ you can always turn around

I don’t remember how to do things anymore, basic things, like take stock of how I’m feeling. Because how I’m feeling ties into what I’m doing, and the nature of that doing is dynamic.

Walking behind a child today, I remembered how intimidating the streets seemed to me at that age. Then you learn that nobody owns the streets, that no one person owns an initiative. We don’t even own our own bodies – hundreds of people tear us to shreds every day; swiping a lock of hair here, a swatch of colour there, the fingertip of your glove as you pass them in the rain.

Most days I ask myself if I’m alright, but not until after the fact. Hindsight is the only reliable measurement because nobody is really in the moment anymore. The moment is a limbo we’re constantly escaping; the moment is always greener on the other side.

Change can wrest all agency and that is a scary bad thing sometimes. Even praise becomes unsettling if it comes to us unexpectedly.

Someone who likes you isn’t necessarily your friend and your friends don’t always think much of you. Could this be true?

So long as the universe is painted onto the inside of our eyelids, I can’t discredit belief.