childhood wonder
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The most dangerous people are the ones who have nothing to lose. The box had my name on it. Not my adult name. The name I wrote across everything when I was nine, with the last letter curled backward because I hadn’t learned to make it properly yet. It was sitting in the attic beneath…
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Maybe it is just boredom that has brought me here, tired of human suffering. Not because suffering is unusual. Because it repeats itself with remarkable dedication. I sat watching people today and couldn’t decide what they were actually chasing. A better job. A bigger house. Someone else’s attention. An argument they intended to win before…
