I’m happiest when I’m out of my house.
There’s something so deliciously thrilling about late night escapades and lying in the grass at the park, putting on shoes that make you feel pretty and catching the eye of random strangers who smile at you. Walking around the city with red lipstick on and black tights, linking arms with my friends and throwing my head back with laughter. Even just stepping out onto my roof and spinning around in circles until the stars and clouds all become a beautiful fuzzy blur. Driving in the car with the windows rolled down in the damp of summer night, blasting shitty music and singing so loud that you can’t possibly fathom how you could ever have ever doubted the beauty that is life. Climbing trees and rolling in the sand, seeing unfamiliar faces that hold such possibilities. Every stranger you see has a story, every face another novel. Picking a pretty flower and tucking it behind your ear and walking down the street. I think I’m just in love with the world, to be honest.
