as it turns out, city life doesn't mean much to me when it's not 24 hours and electric,
when population density is high and height limitations hit the stratosphere.
and i guess i'd rather parks past midnight and the backs of vans, completely ignoring the drive-in movie we paid to see in favour of telling stupid jokes and doing stupid dares and taking stupid pictures and being every bit of the coming of age film we knew we could be, even years past 18
and i think i still am the person i was,
i think i'm person i've always been.
i've just shifted into something i knew i had to fake,
to make sure i didn't get found out.
"found out for what?"
for who i am, obviously. silly question.
(don't you know everything i like is stupid?)
kids like me know what they need to do to survive, who they have to pretend to be without compromising too much of what they are.
eyesight always fixated on the scale, careful not to disturb the balance between authenticity & adaptability.

i love the skyline, but i didn't realise you came with fine print. apparently i only love you when you belong to one particular city, and when you accommodate one particular group of people a few thousand miles away.

the days of walking in at five in the morning, praying i didn't wake anyone,
and looking like the prettiest picture showing up at half past ten on your doorstep, dress dirty and sweatshirt a few sizes too big.
notlikeitsmineanyway.
it feels like that person is climbing up the walls, gripping the bars of the cage begging to be let out.
my red flag is that i think i deserve to bite the hand that feeds because the hand feeding me is utterly 𝑓ucking boring.

all this urban jungle and no one wants to play with me.

clicking my heels, feel free to work whenever.
abby