Zines stacked beside me. Did I say too much? Was I too honest? If I hand this to someone, and see them flip through the pages, how will I feel when they know? Know about the girl thing. Am I ready for any of this? Will this become another "brilliant" idea that my future self will question?
Act then analyze.
Though that's not really sound advice. If I really acted I'd be halfway North or West by now on the late night bus with a bag packed for a week and forever. Can't just go to British Columbia no matter how much you might want to.
Be cool, be calm. Be calm, be cool. Breathe. You are stressing yourself out too much. Swear more. Drink peppermint tea. That always makes you feel adventurous. Don't make excuses. Make art. Breathe again. Coping like this makes your therapist proud of you. It doesn't make it easier to cut vegetables though.
Fuck you aly.
Care less.
Care more.
Crawl into your bed when everyone else is asleep, and pretend you forget your body's geography. Your heart is never where it's supposed to be. It gets shifted too much throughout the day and ends up somewhere near your ankles. It's always telling you to go. Pick it up and rest it on your shoulder. The closest it will ever be to your head. You can't move anywhere when you are asleep, except in dreams. So it makes sense that the heart is closest to your head at this time of day.
When you close your eyes, your brain will escape from your skull and throw itself to the ceiling and try to make something of the shadows that you never see. This is ok because nothing makes sense. When you open your eyes in the morning, it will be back where it is supposed to be, and yet you will feel like you have been crying all night. Run your fingers through your hair, because everything is ok now. You are in the real world where real things can actually hurt you.
Don't feel connected.
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