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(on travel, on losing friends, on ordinary affect)
Success is finding a seat on a crowded subway
And not getting lipstick on my apple when I take a bite, say
I shouldn’t beat myself up over some added red pigment, say
I shouldn’t miss everyone as much I do and, hey
I’ve been seeing older version of my friends in places today
But they’re distant and further away on crowded subways
My stomach feels sick when I think of all the things I’ve messed up
It is exhausting to feel like you’re bad at everything
What is success if you’re just feeling like it all sucks?
I guess I’ll try again?
Try to find some meaning in this plan
I guess success is finding a seat on a crowded subway
So I’ll wipe the lipstick off my apple and sit comfortably