Not feelin’ it.

There was a lot of fluffy goodness growing this March, and my chirpy spring spirit turned more to a growl once the results of spring’s “anticipation” came in.

I went to the Cherry Blossom Festival, alone. This surprises no one, as I do many things alone now: museums, movies, cultural events, neighborhood exploring. But dammit, even the scary harajuku kids dressed up as manga characters had someone to hang out with at the festival.

I took lots of beautiful pictures, and documented all kinds of people having fun in the gardens, and then went home to process my pictures. Also, to add insult to injury, I ran into one of the six people that I know in Brooklyn, a city of over 2 million inhabitants. Of course I see my old crush after six months dressed in my red hoodie and jeans, not having showered since the day before, and having been rained on at the festival. Superb. Very spring-like and inspiring.

I’m ready for work to be normal again, for people to act like they’re still my friends, pick up the damn phone, or answer a freaking email.

Screw this “spring” thing.


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