two pulls. that’s all i had; just two pulls of someone else’s joint, and four overpriced beers, and i’m more ****** up than i can ever remember being. flat bloodless faces stuck to the walls won’t stop looking at me and i think a girl is looking at me too for the first time in a long time. and there’s a woman talking about her feelings, and her voice comes in threes and sinks sinks sinks and it’s all so important, so important that the vignette strangles me more than it ever has.
somebody’s talking about how she should stop going to bristol. and there’s a guy talking about getting fined and my skin is tingling where it usually dries and flakes and it feels like the ******* i took two years ago is seeping out my pores and balling up and i’m getting real quiet. and there’s a trans person talking about bleeding on the bathroom floor, i think, and they’ve lost me in the words. i’m too dumb to understand the not-basic language they’re using, and probably too dumb to know if i’m a man in a man’s body or a woman in a man’s body that is just attracted to women. ******* weird, man.
getting so messy on so little is such an embarrassment.