irresponsibility in the form of wool

having a cashmere sweater is no mere, mundane thing

having a cashmere sweater is a luxury

having a cashmere sweater is everything you’ve ever wanted

wrapped in a little box and tressed in a satin bow

sometimes it scares me when i have something

beautiful or precious or special

it’s a little scary like

when i was three years old i had this passion for bubble wrap

every time a package came in the mail

the first thing i went to was the cushioning inside

it was always the most adored possession i ever owned

but every time i burst each air droplet

bit by bit

my most valuable treasure would be ruined

i think it’s a little bit like that

knowing that you’re holding onto something extraordinary

but knowing you’re going to destroy it regardless

a stormcloud always about to strike lightning

a nebula forever on the verge of collapse

a mountain crumbling in on itself with no way of finding an escape

i know that i’m going to ruin this cashmere sweater

(i ruin lots of things)

and you’d think that if i knew i was going to ruin it

why buy it in the first place?

but

i have this tendency to jump into things even when i know

oh my god,

this is going to be a disaster

but i kind of thrive off the adventure leading up to it

i thrive off the feeling of knowing i’m making a mistake

but doing it anyways

i don’t know why that irresponsibility excites me

but i know that sometimes i go weeks without making a bad decision and i think

this is kinda boring

or sometimes i watch gossip girl and i think

i need some drama in my life too

so i tell my friend i hate her

and sometimes i love people

(almost radically so)

or i let people love me and i think

oh… this is gonna kill me

and it when it almost does i vow to never, ever, ever do that ever again

but the next week i think

oh my god this boy i saw for 0.5 seconds on the train

yeah, we’re gonna get married

our kids are gonna have his jawline and my… everything else

sometimes i think that i make the wrong decisions on purpose

like maybe it’s a habit born from a previous life

not like the Buddhist wheel of life

more like the elise from one, two, three years ago

like maybe making the wrong decision is a part of me

so deeply ingrained that i honestly don’t know how to avoid it anymore

(i don’t know if i want to avoid it anymore)

and i know

that at one point (possibly very soon)

i’m going to get ketchup on my beautiful cashmere sweater

but i’m going to eat that hot dog anyways

and i’m going to pray that this time it’s different

that i’m different

(spoiler alert : i’m not)