and everything is a little too easy,
and a little too hard

it is hard for me to call upon myself as an invalid or anything approaching its opposite-
I remember my english teacher in sixth grade exploring basic grammatical principles in our language,
and I remember exercises in temporal deletion
like video games and platitude

I remember eyes, blue or brown, colored hair-
everything has color except to those unfortunate few

I remember when I did not drink for fear of becoming something other than, but now I do it in efforts to return to myself

my father tells me that I began to speak at less than a year old,
that I did not babble

I do not know what this indicates, as parents are reluctant to give their young to scientists-

in his mentioning it is an effort to grasp at something more than,
but I am alone in regularity,
taunted by hopes of this prospect-

and I am fickle, laughable in this denigration, dramatism, insouciance

some other words