I liked Reality better when it was a dream.

I think that I will turn around and notice the wind blowing tops of trees. I'll see the way the world begins to need color everywhere. And I'll realize how small I really am. And then I'll spin right back around. And say, "Nick, why are you such a prick?
Why can't you just marvel in the hopes that make up this reality? Your world is what you made it. And I don't want a part of it."

I'm through being cool.
Jul 07
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“ Call me a coward; it’s so fitting. I flee from open doors. They are creaking, cracking open, and there is no way I’ll ever escape them all. I said I would sail the roughest of seas to find some peace, but I’m backing out again.
— Weaver at the Loom, lyrics, “You Can’t Escape Them,” aka the song I’ve had on repeat for hours.