i always found it nice how this world is full of things


there's just so many of them yknow?


there are small things and big things and heavy things and light things and dark things and thin things and thick things there are literally THINGS everywhere and its kinda nice except when it isnt.


like when you look around at your room full of things and have the urge to suddenly sweep all the things into a big black garbage bag and maybe set it on fire in your backyard, partly because you can, partly because the fact that these things are just there, existing, doesn't sit very well with you for some reason


or like when you rummage in your backpack full of things looking for that one thing that you need in that moment, the one thing that in that moment has any significance to you whatsoever and the others are just obstacles, stopping you from finding the thing that is more than a thing right then because everything else is a thing except for that, and you get so frustrated at all of the things and wonder why you have to deal with their burden, have to touch them and look at them and think about them and devote more energy and mindspace to them than they probably deserve, and you wonder: why do i have these things in the first place?


but some things are inherently nice. like warm coffee on a cold day, like rain on windows and rain on the pavement and rain anywhere else really, like long eyelashes and calloused skin,


like wrapping paper with kittens on it.


until you throw it away.

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