Kids are the Best

Do times change or do people?

I'm trying my best to create a routine and not push myself out of it, again.

The house is looking nice. I'm not impatient, I hope others aren't either. It'll take time and no matter what I do, I can't do bad work quickly.

I refuse.

Important people visit this Starbucks. Important; everyone. Either to their consiousness or someone elses.

I wish I could stop biting my fingernails and I wish this guy would stop using words like 'ancillary' and 'ubiquitous'. I wonder if he was related to Anne Frank?

Hopping and lunging, lightly grasping his mothers hand while she focused her attention not on him, he focused on nothing. Bopping down the street the little blond-haired kid found the time to kneel every 10 yards and alternate between throwing the sweet-gum pods into the street, and placing them in a rudimentary fashion, into his mothers purse.

On her phone, she never noticed. Nobody ever notices kids, and they're the only ones who make any sense.


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