hello friend,

i haven't seen you in a while and i was wondering how you were?
do you still think about me the way i think about you?
hopefully i'll see you soon old friend.

love.

it's different for a girl.
the first time I had ***, i was drunk and he didn't love me, but everyone else was doing it, so i did it too.
i don't remember everything, but i remember how quiet it was all around us and how small i felt.
he didn't kiss me at all and we didn't really look at each other and when it was over he kissed me on the forehead and left me alone to walk home.
i felt excited at first, like i was finally an adult. i expected to wake up the next morning with all the answers, and that i'd look like a different person.

i didn't look any different, and the only thing i felt, was sore.

the emptiness set in, and the exhilaration rotted into shame.
i wasn't in love, i didn't remember it that well and i knew i hadn't been ready.

although, i'll never admit that to anyone.

it's different for a girl.

sometimes i wonder if there will ever be a day where i can eat a slice of cake and not want to die after.

i always have this fleeting feeling deep down, it comes in quiet hours, when i should be sleeping. i’m supposed to be somewhere else than where i am, i just don’t know the name of that place or why the universe wants me there so bad. it’s like i’m constantly running late for the bus or that i’ve been invited to a party but i get none of the details. it’s this nameless phantom that haunts me and pulls me deeper, but i’ll never have a mean of escape. when will i be free of this feeling?

it's nighttime and i am laying back in bed.

my pillows are cotton and they rub against my neck as i try to get comfortable. i never really do. i play with the loose thread of my comforter, and wrap it around my finger until the tip turns purple, i wonder for a moment, what would happen if i let the feeling spread until the top of my pointer is useless? suddenly, i hear your favorite song play in my head. it is soft. soft and rolling and it gives me the same feeling as my thread wrapped finger. i feel weightless and useless just like the crimson, shaded pad of my pointer. your song grows louder while everything else grows more quiet. i didn't know it was possible for this amount of silence to exist, it felt as if my skull grew transparent and all my thoughts began floating around the room like tiny lulling clouds. your song is drifting into the ceiling, i hope it floats through and up and up all the way to the moon. then it will settle there amongst the rubble and it will play it's rolling melody for all the stars. maybe they'll all fall asleep and it will be completely dark and completely quiet. the song just grows louder instead, so loud it begins to ring in my ears like a symphony of tiny, little bells. it rises and rises and i wrap the thread tighter and tighter and i squeeze my eyes closed and i beg. i beg for the song to stop, but it just grows louder. the bells reach their crescendo and it's then that i realize that the thread was not wrapped around my finger but my heart, and i was painfully, irrefutably, regrettably in love.

the song finally stopped.