When you think too long on it, the rinse and repeat, your cheeks go pale like you’ve washed them too many times in Napisan, and not in a good way like faded jeans, but in a bad way like every morning when Kei te whakarongo mai koe ki Te Reo Irirangi o Aotearoa wakes you, you think, isn’t this yesterday? Rinse and repeat. Like you’ll always fail to press your horn in time to give the asshole who cut you off a fright, but it doesn’t matter because the planet’s burning and some people don’t own shoes. Rinse and repeat. Like you’ll always make yourself cry thinking of your own funeral but you’ll never actually cry at your actual funeral because you’ll be dead. You can cry at other people’s funerals, but it’s not the same.
Featured photo courtesy of author.
