I'm in the middle of a perfect Friday night.
Don't bother using your imagination, its pretty tame.
Bruno Mars is singing in my childhood bedroom and I'm lying on the floor remembering how I got from this bedroom that represents my 10-year old self to my new dorm room at UT in 8 years.
Isn't it crazy how quickly our current conception of our lives fades into something new? (and No, this isn't conversation inspired by the Vodka Chronicles lol)
I think it is. Change is like this massive, completely pregnant, sneaky raincloud that blends in so well that it often goes unnoticed until its blocked out the whole sky and is dropping its wet little blessings on our heads.
Sometimes I wish I could just cut one day out of my life and carry it to some other place where it won't have context and enjoy it there instead.
Because the past never passes.
