In the morning when I pull a shirt over my head, it’s ironic to me-
I think of the last time I wore this shirt, and how everything has changed.
How I know different things now, but mostly how the people have changed. If you had told me last time I was wearing this black and white print what I would be thinking as I pulled it on today, I probably would have laughed, although if I could be certain and see the future I might have cried.
Ironic, isn’t it, that the next time I wear it I might be crying over something else, or laughing at yet another ridiculous possibility of the extent of my emotional out-there-ness. Who woulda thought, huh?
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