FYP

An evening notification from the bank, expired yoghurt, Gilmore Girls playing in the background, and some kind of space in my head - the kind where you can hate the whole world in a minute, and then forgive everyone, including yourself. A track about inner gymnastics without judges, where mistakes don't cost you points, but are simply met with a ‘Well, yes, it happens.’ Life goes on, even if you've left two angry reviews in a row and wear mental fatigue like your favourite T-shirt. Everything's fine. Almost.