Everyday I start my morning with coffee made from beans I grind and a stiff bonk to the head courtesy of a rake I leave out for the purpose of hopefully waking up on the middle school playground where I’m surrounded with concerned friends.
If I could go back, there would not be a lot for me back there, except I would be broken, know what is coming, and have even less of a way to stop it (because broken).
Everyday I start my morning with coffee made from beans I grind and a stiff bonk to the head courtesy of a rake I leave out for the purpose of hopefully waking up on the middle school playground where I’m surrounded with concerned friends.
If I could go back, there would not be a lot for me back there, except I would be broken, know what is coming, and have even less of a way to stop it (because broken).