Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
I’m a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I’m lazy, yet I’m ambitious. I don’t like myself, but I also love who I am. I say I don’t care, but I really do. I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way. I’m a conflicted contradiction. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else has.
knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit
wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad
That was deep
philosophy is wondering if that means ketchup is a smoothie
That was deeper.
common sense is knowing that ketchup isn’t a damn smoothie you nasty