FYP

An evening notification from the bank, expired yogurt, 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 get you points deducted, but simply a “Yeah, it happens.” Life goes on, even if you left two angry reviews in a row and wear mental fatigue like your favorite T-shirt. Everything's fine. Almost.