sunday.
and every sunday.
it’s broken up that way. everything begins and ends. and repeats. and begins and ends.
i keep thinking like, what if this is the week? no, better yet: what if i make this the week? the week that i . . . figure it out? give up? realize that it didn’t matter the whole time?
no, listen: there are all these things you do to survive, things you have to do to not get crushed by it. and you’re not good at a lot of those. that’s what you have to figure out.
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