going out in public
too many pancakes
lots of other things
are we moving apart together? where are we going? why don't people put me in their pocket? i am tiny, i can be quiet, i'd fit nicely in there.
we crave the proper proportions of self-hatred, because for some of us, it is the only way we know how to live with ourselves. i am happy, no, just content, just not a pile of sad bones. i am afraid that i will always be shaking my fists and pounding on doors, trying to find the place where i belong, while always suspecting that it is nowhere in particular or everywhere to some lame extent. it's why i dream of places i've never been to, places no one i know has ever been to, because in my head they are mine, and if they are mine, then maybe i am theirs. my brother says i'm not a normal girl and i agree. i did my best to raise myself as a boy, but we we both got stuck with sentimental hearts, and with all the shit we put in them, they really weigh us down.