Reverse / 5.4.16 / 10:37-11:05

Wait, wait, no I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to be that honest. Really. I mean, I wanted to be honest, believe me, just not aloud. Make sense?

See, the thing is, I spend most of my time alone and in my head. Speaking trips me up. I forget I’m not on my couch in my apartment, staring at walls or blank screens, wishing, waiting, hoping for something different to fucking happen. I forget I’m in public and there’s these . . . rules.

So, yeah, forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.

Though I can’t lie; the power trip feels good.

To feel that sense of awkward ooze into the stale air. To see your mouth open and close like a dying fish as you try to find the right response. There isn’t one. Stop it. Stop searching for something that isn’t there.

I’ve learned to do it. So can you!

But then again, maybe you don’t want to listen to me. I don’t know how to act in public. I pull wedgies and don’t know the meaning of heels and burp and curse and I walk a little funny. Okay, a lot funny, I’ve got this thing with my back and my legs are uneven . . .

Look at you, pretending to give a shit! Bravo!

The level of disconnect while you attempt to connect is written all over. Right there. Between your dead eyes. It’s kind of sad, actually. This is a chance to talk about something other than the weather and a Kardashian’s ass and all you can actually think is-

This bitch is crazy.

But I want you think about it. Long and hard. After we’ve finished this beer and have gone our separate ways. I want you to think about this crazy bitch and all her ramblings and if somewhere within there is some kind of fucked up sense. It may not be yours; don’t try to possess it, you fuck, this is mine, but . . . just think that maybe I have a point.

Somewhere.

How’s your beer? Tangy? Mm. Fuck you.

You ever been so lonely, you could taste it? I have no idea what the fuck that really means, but, lord Jesus, I think I’m close. I hardly remember what it feels like. To be with someone. To have a friend I could rely on. To fuck someone. To kiss someone. It’s odd, being a grown woman who hasn’t kissed a man in years. Well, being a woman that secretly adores affection and intimacy.

Sh. Tell no one.

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