the moment when you’re waiting outside a bathroom for someone to finish and you have to avoid eye contact because you fear they’ve left a mess behind

the sensation and sound of fingernails dragging down paper

when you’re kissing someone, and at first it’s nice, but you go deeper and start to taste something foul

paper cuts

when you’re sleeping and someone shines a flashlight into your face

when your airpods are dead and you’ve lost your speaker and you’re in a library and all you want is to hear Olivia Rodrigo sing to you

the hard plastic chairs that are shaped to your but and are always too warm or too cold when you sit down

the feeling of prickly rope rubbing my palms, but not fast enough to burn them

typing the word definitely (i got it out, don’t worry)

the smell of my anti-dandruff shampoo

slow drivers

fast drivers

boring drivers

microphone feedback

waiting for you to text and wondering if i should

being kind and people not being kind back

when you hit a pothole and your teeth chatter