Why do I still feel so empty, when everything I need is given to me so immediately? I’m in a sea of perfect efficiency, but I have no desire to swim. What a cruel joke. What an infinite jest. No I take that back, that’s corny, that’s corny. Someone could see that.

I remember asking my grandmother why she liked America more than the Dominican Republic, she said “when I go to the grocery store here, there’s food on the shelves.” She’s never yearned over a Bushwick DJ before... she’ll never know that feeling... she died a couple years ago

It’s the little things, the little ways to feel the pin prick the edge of your skin right where you sprayed your backup perfume that makes it all feel so silly.