Nothing like a Tuesday night in a room so small the bass rattles your teeth. Tell me you could keep your hands to yourself in this crowd.
Nothing like a Tuesday night in a room so small the bass rattles your teeth. Tell me you could keep your hands to yourself in this crowd.
Just got back from destroying my legs at the gym and now I can't find a single reason to put real clothes back on. Poppy at the Palladium on Friday has me wired like I'm already in the pit — tell me you'd be brave enough to peel me off the floor after.
Still vibrating from that set and I can't pretend I'm ready to wind down. Shed half my clothes between the venue door and the kitchen counter — think you could keep pace with me right now?
LA heat doesn't ask permission — it just strips everything off you. Including, apparently, every single thing I was wearing. Tell me you'd survive walking in on this.
Halfway through getting ready for a show that's going to absolutely wreck me. The eyeliner isn't even done and I'm already buzzing. Want to help me decide what stays on and what comes off?
Friday morning and I haven't even opened my eyes all the way, but the light through the blinds felt too good not to share. Do you wake up this slowly or do you need convincing?
Thursday evening and I just caught myself humming a song I haven't heard in probably ten years. No idea where it came from, but suddenly I'm back in my first apartment with bad lighting and worse taste in furniture. Funny how the body remembers things the mind filed away.
Funny how 2 AM on a Thursday is the only time my brain stops running the business spreadsheet and starts remembering I used to write terrible poetry in high school. I'm not saying I'm about to start again, but the urge is there and honestly that scares me more than any deadline ever has.
Monday nights are for breaking my own rules about sugar after 9 PM. Found this cupcake place that stays open late and suddenly my whole week feels manageable. Sometimes self-care looks like frosting and zero regrets.
There's a weird honesty that hits around 1 AM when you realize you've spent all week being "on" for everyone else. The tattoos, the jokes, the whole production. But right now it's just me, the silence, and a Dr. Pepper cream soda. Sometimes the most real version of yourself is the one nobody sees.