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The Yorkville Residence by Taylor Smyth Architects
brother at the age of nine.
I worry. They say childhood greatly affects you in the later years. Possibly a lifetime. I haven’t been the best sister to both my brothers, I know. And I can’t say I’ve tried my best because well, I haven’t. But I haven’t been a terrible one, thank goodness. I take care of them. Like a mom. But the mental-emotional-non-physical-rational-way-of-thinking-lessons part isn’t there. Nowhere. Someone has to do it. Dad is out of the question. Mom is too busy too much too often. And I have come to worry a little to late. Off in college.
And it isn’t the little worrying type, either. Nope. It’s the stressful worrying. Like worrying about fucking up and it’s all your fault. That kind of worrying but not exactly like it. To some degree.
David Ope: Untitled.
I can literally feel my brain expanding and contracting.
(via fuckyeahbabyanimals)