i swear to god i'm gonna die
in one of these nameless steakhouses
to a backtrack of classical jazz
with my back straight
and my legs crossed
in a pretty dress
and stockings
my hair pulled up tight
(i have a headache- no one cares)
when i get handed a menu,
i barely look
i'm getting the cheapest salad
because that's polite, right?

there is your sister, there is your sister brilliant and shining in every way you are not, and there is your brother, blindingly talented and everything you are not, and because they are the opposite of you, you expect them to be the same, but they aren't, there's 10 billion types of people and you are the worst of them

i’m just a scared little kid
afraid of losing what
i already lost