I was born on December 19th at about 11:43 pm. I've never been able to tell if I'm being insulted or complimented. I can get away with blaming my indecisiveness on being me. I'm 5'5. I weigh who knows how much. I'm scared of my mom. I'm a real sucker for people with dimples and comfy leggings with giant pockets. I can't drive. I like iced coffee and writing poetry more than the oxygen I need to survive. I have strange fascinations with things like ratted, old Converse and the shape of my self-made scars. They remind me that everything is temporary, but the pain stays. I assume this is why I'm obsessed with drawing my scars as different things: stars, trees, a new poem. I watch the sunset from a hammock every night. Sometimes, I ask myself why so much of my time is invested in things that are only temporary and hope they come back. I'm afraid of heights but not falling and I often wonder if I would survive stepping off a cliff's edge. I also wonder what my clothes whisper about me now that I've left the closet. I spent so long hiding amongst the skeletons that hung there that I'm not sure how to appear alive anymore. I get called a number of things, both good and bad, but my name is Taron. I'm clumsy. I don't laugh easily. I enjoy Korean music and strawberry yogurt. My hobbies include avoiding love, vandalizing people's thoughts with my anxiety, and coming up with masks, I mean metaphors. I have 1,154 followers on Twitter. I can't think of anything to say to them that actually matters. I knew that, right now, I am in both heaven and hell. I know that Google shows 2.8 million results how to tie a nose for hanging yourself. I know that I haven't become anything yet but i have an entire box of unfinished poems. This is only a draft copy of myself. I am not done writing just yet.