fitting in

If you cannot say anything appropriate, limit yourself to remarks about the weather.

The weather. Hmmm.
What can I tell you about my weather? It’s neither here, nor there. Somehow it’s stuck between seasons; it’s not able to make up its own mind, to take shape, to manifest itself in a familiar way. So it gets me all messed up, yearning for what it would be in order, but consistently fails to amount to such state of normalcy. So, I’m weather-less to some huge extent…

How about you? How’s your weather like?

And when you’re done with your weather
Know that I can care less about it
But the things I care for
You won’t care to tell me

Although I know about semantics
And assumptions
And the way your self-concept will hinder you
And the fact that it’s so hard to talk without meaning
For meaning is in people not in words
Things come out distorted nonetheless
To the point where it’s best to talk about the weather
Or about how we never fit in



Tuturor celor care va mai abateti pe aici: numai bine!!!!

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