So he texted back once. Once with an exclamation point and an emoji. My teenage tech savvy brain read this as some semblance of interest. Of course, it's only a little thing. I read too much into it, and I knew that. I didn't expect anything. It's been 24 hours. I think his birthday is in 2 days. He could be busy. Is it arrogant to even postulate anxiety on his behalf? Well, anyway, I've been keeping busy. I've been marathoning movies and drawing self portraits of me surrounded by hearts with pretty cartoon eyelids.

But I think I'm worried. I'm worried that I'll never be able to love something I know. I don't know when I'll love someone without filling in the blanks. I wish I could get someone that I like to like me back, not the other way around. I suffocate in the arms of men, their kisses like battery acid on my fairy wing lips. It bubbles through and leaves me flightless. I just want a pretty boy to sweep me off my feet and cure the boredom that too, gnaws holes in me.