slap

It's much more victorious on the days I don't think about you. When I can take big stomping steps on the cement and feel like the world is one big sodding seafood platter. I fucking hate seafood. And I know all these fucking girls just like you, all ready to drop their pants for someone who looks like Daddy, all ready to sneer at someone like me, all ready to talk about how original they are. You're all from the same school of fish, wet pissing pussyfish. And me, like some stupid octopus, wanting nothing to do with you and begging not to feel like my eight limbs are tied in knots. It's much more fun on the days I don't think about the ocean of misery you've trapped me in.

fucking fish aren't fucking friends.

you keep treating me like a child while you're telling me i'm an adult.
and you keep shifting the boundaries so i don't know how to move.
and you keep calling me a monster.
if a monster's what you want, a monster is what you'll get.
i've only ever wanted to be what you wanted.

she introduced herself as a writer, everytime. i introduced myself as my name. she was, probably still is, a writer. i thought maybe i could be too. i thought wrong. i was never going to be a writer.

i was just going to be someone who used too many self related personal pronouns.

#

"sometimes" is my favourite word. sometimes i thought myself big, sometimes i thought myself more. now though, now i'm sure that i'm just another breteastonellischild, too stupid and selfish to say what i'm thinking, too wannabe masochistic to actually ever change anything. too proud of my wasted youth and inelegance.

sometimes i wonder if i came back a little shattered, or if i was always cracked before i went. i know i'm not an easy person, but i wonder when i've gotten a kevlarcoating without noticing. i don't know if i can get it off, and i don't know who else would want to try.

and sometimes i think that all of this is the biggest joke..

on the wounds/one

let's have this out now. my teeth are growing long and my skin's tight. i think i'm spoiling for a fight. this new damage, this new era of maturity, this posturing bullshit we claim as our own. we are nothing special. we are scum, ordinary. we think we dream big, but we dream selfish. there's nothing new coming out of our mouths, just quickfire behind our backs. so let's have this out now, lance the boil, scream and tear ourselves apart beyond repair. the day sits heavy on my stomach, your stupid laughter in my ears. i'm skinning my knuckles in advance. i am a bitch of the best proportions, i am queen of the indignant and the bored. and you, you're prey.

x

been building for weeks. i should have known. i did know, i just didn't want to admit it. i'm the problem, with my overthinking and my irritability. i'm the problem, you're the agitant. go on and tell them, tell them all how nervy i am, how self obsessed. doesn't bother me at all. but give me back that moment. give me that, and i might not ruin everything.

x

sometimes, i find home.
sometimes, i wish i hadn't shared it with people.
sometimes, i wish i'd never shared it with you.