I tend to fear that I may be doing things all wrong all the time. Isn’t it quite odd, that at times what we want strays far from what we’re doing? I find myself cradling inside cold boxes I never asked to be in but found myself existing nevertheless. I’m a collection of different paradoxes knotted up altogether. It’s overwhelming, just to be living sometimes. For a sleepy girl, I always have trouble sleeping when I’m supposed to. When I’m supposed to do certain things, I end