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Like in “Boyhood,” when Mason’s mom says, “I just thought there’d be more,” I feel Candy thinkin’ that too—more than dodgy johns and stale motel sheets. She’s probs got dreams, right? Maybe she wanted to be a painter or some shit, but bam—life’s like, “Nah, girl, here’s a corner.” Pisses me off, honestly—like, society’s all judgy, clutchin’ pearls, but who’s payin’ her rent? Not them! Hypocrites, ugh. I’m gettin’ heated just typin’ this—17 typos incoming, watch me not care.

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Later, I met up with my buddy at the park near the harbor. We were just chillin’, talkin’ about life, you know? Then outta nowhere, this group of kids starts playin’ soccer. They’re kickin’ the ball around, laughin’, havin’ a blast. I’m feelin’ all nostalgic, so I jump in. I haven’t played in ages! But man, I’m rusty. I trip over my own feet and faceplant in the sand. Everyone’s laughin’ at me, and I’m just like, “Yeah, I meant to do that.”

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