Lewis Capaldi albums
and
autumn weather
and
Japanese Gran Prix's
and
endless school assignments
and
longing for more
than just this flat earth
and
a cup of black tea
whenever I feel down.
Blankets and
toes held close to the heater
and
binge-watching shows
with vampires and monsters
and
running away from reality.
I want nothing more
than this dichotomy
of holding on
and
letting go all the same.
I'm melancholic and elated.
Yearning.
I'm alive I suppose.