i was walking home from the post office and was waiting at the traffic lights to cross a busy road. a car drove by and some guy stuck his body out and smiled and waved at me, saying something but i didn’t hear anything because i had my earphones in. all i could think was no, i don’t want no scrub. a scrub is a guy that can’t get no love from me. hanging out the passenger side of his best friend’s ride, trying to holla at me.
“…curious way that my idealism has been mixed with my fatalism, so that I can possess the soul of a dreamer and that of a cynic at the same time…”—Anaïs Nin, The Early Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1923-1927 (via thecrownedstags)