slow down, sister

My brain is cluttered. Just like my room. Just like my car. Just like my heart.
And I want everything to clean itself because digging through clutter is a drag.

Rainy summer days—you make a cup of tea at seven o clock because it’s so light out but there is nowhere to go. In the silence the questions ring out—“who even are you?” You think stability will cure you. But you’re just as restless and cluttered. Sitting still remains hard.

Slow down, sister. Be the kind of person you want to be—it’s your choice. But here’s the real truth: you have to be that person on rainy days inside and silent. You are not a perception. You are skin and bones and you are still simplifying. Take the rainy day and once again hide away and find yourself under all that mess you’ve made trying to turn your soul into a show and tell. It’s not as hard as you’re making it.