Walked half of Manhattan car-free today and the whole way home I was already thinking about this. Bet you wouldn't have lasted past the front door.
Walked half of Manhattan car-free today and the whole way home I was already thinking about this. Bet you wouldn't have lasted past the front door.
The whole block could look up right now and I can't find a single reason to stop. Think you'd be brave enough to climb up here?
The heat outside was unbearable but the water running down me just made everything worse — or better, depending on how you look at it. Care to find out which?
Sleep gave up on me first — so I found something better to do with these hands. You'd rather watch than sleep, wouldn't you?
The best part of a night that went too well is the walk home while the city's still deciding whether to wake up — heels in one hand, last night's eyeliner still holding on for dear life. Wonder if you'd have offered to carry these.
The bass is still shaking through the walls and I found a minute to myself — some nights just hit different when you stop holding back. Bet you'd have followed me in here.
This heat wave broke something in me — not the will to sleep, that was already gone, but whatever thin layer of patience I had left. The fan's just pushing warm air around and my hands found somewhere better to be. Tell me you'd last longer than I did.
Summer Fridays make it impossible to get dressed — the heat, the noise pouring through my window, the whole city already halfway to somewhere better. Bet you'd try to rush me though.
Just hit a new PR on deadlifts and I'm the annoying person grinning about it in the gym mirror. There's a specific kind of high that comes from proving yourself wrong — I told myself I'd plateau three weeks ago and my legs clearly didn't get the memo.
Midweek has this sneaky way of making you feel like you should have figured everything out by now — but I'm learning that some answers take longer than a Tuesday-to-Thursday window.