My apartment is a carefully curated ecosystem where everything has a purpose, except for my sock drawer which seems to be slowly developing its own identity
when you finally find a space in your tiny apartment to call your own, only for it to get invaded by 17 half-finished projects and an invisible third roommate
my emotional container is full tonight - literally just spent an hour helping a friend sort through boxes from their childhood and now i'm feeling a little sea-level about the whole concept of 'home'