People are funny. The longer you are around them, the more you start to realize that everyone makes the same motions over and over again.

And who cares about the stupid color. Fashion is the least of my concerns right now.

I used to feel so devastated thinking about the length of days, about how time seems to stretch on forever, unforgiving and unchanging.

My blackhole of a heart stalls, sucking all the air out of my lungs.

I shrug and shake my head. It’s a combination of moves that make me vaguely look like I’m doing some kind of dance – the dance of I-don’t-know and please-please-please-don’t-force-me-to-answer.

I never understand why teachers think shouting out that someone got a good score on a test will help their social standing.

And their death was a supernova – their death demanded attention.

Sure, there are dead stars. But at least before they died, they were stars.

Einstein theorized that the faster we move, the slower we perceived time to move. The clocks will still tick away at the same rate regardless – but it’s all about the perception of the observer.