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I've been exiled from my own bedroom (101 degrees), my new bed is made of sofa cushions, and I don't even want to be in the air conditioning yet because I'm afraid I'll take the cold for granted and start getting hot again.
Strange the way it seems to elevate moving higher and higher reaching a point where it can not exist. But it tries it really does. I think that’s the way relationships work. They boil and boil until they can't anymore. Until there’s nothing left in the pot but steam. Wasted and used materials and yet here we are still holding on. To what? Air?