things that matter
The smell of Chanel No. 5 is nice, but it doesn’t matter.
An apartment in Manhattan is nice, but it doesn’t matter.
A new pair of boots would be nice, but I already have some. So it doesn’t matter.
I should loose five pounds, but it doesn’t really matter.
It matters when my sister goes to the grocery store, or on a long run and calls just to tell me about it. It matters that I do good writing, for any project. It matters that Christophe laughs at and with me. It matters that I strive to love at a higher cost, and at self-sacrifice, it matters that I try to change my mind about people, and yeah, it does matter if I stand in judgement of people who irk me. It matters that my Mom has warm feet at night. It matters that my apartment start feeling more like a home. It matters that I think, It matters that I think too much. It matters that I see my friends regularly.
It’s hard to be here (601 Lexington, New York, NY) if you can’t keep a constant grip on what matters.
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