I’m late but I need to take my time.
Nothing goes smoothly.
Because I’m late and because of needing time.
Time to take it easy today.
Not pressuring myself even though I’m not getting where I want to be.
Trying to accept that…

I want much more.
I want to be at a messy party.
Small black dress, dark smudgy eyelids, stones on my neck, wild hair and face.
I’m not that “it-girl” that everybody follows because of her artsy aesthetic.
Perfectly captured, dusky old scene, old looking places.
Young, skinny, bold, dreamy eyes, stained lips smile.

Playing the right music.
Playing in some apartments with silly unmatched objects inside.
Always “out of it”.
Always seeming unbothered.
Or passionately craving, emotionally unstable.

Am I too late?
Am I too bothered, captured by the grasps of this world?
Too much to untangle…
I can have my moments of freedom.
But to get there I’m too late a lot.
I need time.
But I’m late already, always.