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Jul 2020
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.
Written by
Hollis  21/Trans Male/USA
(21/Trans Male/USA)   
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