A pile of hopes, socks just out of the dryer, top a new year. That is fine, but everyone wants you to be careful to match the socks.
I am not careful. I am tired of being careful. I throw love at you, and it could hit you in the face. It is tiring to be loved haphazardly, I know.
Someone will tell you things about your past, about how you should feel about your past, or about how to match the socks.
All I say is shapes and colors matter little. Some of them have gone missing anyway. Love with force. Match or don’t match. Just catch.
– Halsted M. Bernard