i feel messy. i wake up in the morning and i think about styling up my hair. i dare myself to look into the mirror and i pick up tiny details about my current state that i wish i could fix. all of this feels like a constant performance. you love me and i want to be good. i go to sleep and even though you're not in my bed, i tidy up the side of the mattress i think you'd like best. i braid my hair and i hope it sits prettily on my pillow. loving you is keeping me busy.