Don’t allow the narrative surrounding Donald Glover’s musical career define the way you think.
It’s always weird when I see everything as a closed door that I could have kept open if I wasn’t so neurotic and stupid. i really hate the way things spark within my brain sometimes. It’s this back and forth up and down that could rival an ocean current before a perfect storm. I hate seeing colors that remind me of your eyes and how I would dig mine out to trade them for a color that was just a little more beautiful. Hearts keep falling off of my sleeve and it’s pretty much a relief. The sky is dark and makes a perfect backdrop for this meltdown while I lay back in the grass with my eyes closed and dream about something, anything better than this. I need you in hour long increments, but i always like to wait to hear from you first because i’m scared I have gotten annoying. There’s something about the way you look at things that makes me feel okay most nights. I would give anything to make someone feel the way you make me feel those times I’m at my lowest. You have the best of all worlds, kid. I know you don’t see it, but you don’t see yourself through my eyes so I guess I understand. Your smile makes me feel like 5th grade chasing Susie such-n-such around the playground and pulling on her hair. You are scraped knees and picking flowers from the patches by the fence. You are cheek kisses and holding hands and racing hearts and every other cliche I could ever put to words. You are great.
see also: my Rushmore.
D! E!. N, N, Y!
YOU AIN’T GOT NO ALIBI!