My truest self is June, 2014. I've just returned from France and I'm excited to simply wake up each morning having no idea where the **** I'll go with the rest of my life. I have no job, no real priorities, just curiosity. I'm still a ******. I've never told someone I loved them. I've got too many black clothes in my closet and I'm convinced I'm the long lost southern spice girl. My hair is ombre and I haven't cut it in three years. I gave my friend Sydney my shoes because she needed a pair. I listened to Sylvan Esso's new album in a bathtub for five hours in a hotel room in Marseille- day dreaming about all the different people I could pretend I was that day. I hadn't lost anyone before. I was writing beautiful tangly words everyday. I was no one's but my own. everything was going in my favor. I was happy and far too curious for my own good.
But curiosity killed the cat, and here I am on my ninth life walking on egg shells trying to keep it all together.
