The price of postage.

Some days, the world makes more sense from upside-down.
The other night the air was far too heavy, weighted down by fermented things and vanity exhaling into my own lungs.
Feet propped against the wall, blonde hair dangling in unkempt tendrils, the world looks much better from upside-down.


I am far too old.
Time moves quickly around me, and I know too much.
The price of gasoline.
The price of postage.
The price of uncalculated risks.

I also know that

somedays,
there is never enough time, or gasoline.
And that

sometimes,
a person just needs to be upside-down for a while.

Time moves quickly around me and
I am far too young.