when i'm alone, i restore myself.
what do you do when you can't show anyone what is in your head. when the words are bland the drawings are messy and the photographs are empty. they look at you and say "i'm sorry, i don't understand", and you try very hard not to scream at them, "but why?". when people have no outlet for their everyday mess of thoughts, what happens? love and nostalgia and humour and anger and discomfort and hurt and excitement and the many possiblities are all mixed together and what happens? i wonder.
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