The Truth About Self Love
The problem with being a writer is that moments of inspiration come at beautifully inconvenient times. Like right now. It's 8am in the middle of the week. i'm listening to great music and sitting in a coffee shop by the window and the sun is shining in a delicately perfect way. This room smells like pan dulce, which makes me think of the days i spent walking the streets of Guatemala. My coffee is too hot to drink and the test i'm supposed to be studying for is too soon. However i will continue in my never-failing pattern of being a poor student and take this lighting and that smell for what it's worth. This moment is too beautiful to spend it studying.