I will be your bad teeth

everything is amazing, even if it's just in this small room, and this hot mug.

and there should not be a limit on the amount of times you can say that.

I can't focus again, but believe me, I am happy. I am keeping my feet pressed firmly together, fighting the cold wash of the tiles, watching coffee mugs and spilled papers, dry knuckles and smiles that they do not know i am making.

when my dad talks calmly to me, it fills me with so much hope for myself, that he did believe in me all along. I know it is easy to say these horrible things, but sometimes, it's true. my greatest fear is not being good enough for him, the always fear, for all of us.

but what are we doing here? we are just slow and secret, and we're finding it is real.

I am overwhelmed with the chance and possibility, that we're going to keep each other, safe and warm and believing.

everything is going to be alright, be strong, believe.