But there's no opportunity. There's nothing wrong with my life. It's good. It's great. It's whatever.

Everything is flat line. Always. Except for the occasional fight or the occasional run in with the occasional boy.

My first instinct was right. He's too dumb, too perverted, probably not interested anyway. It doesn't even matter. He doesn't fit in the little cookie cutter I recently defined as perfection. He's not even close.

But that's not what counts. What counts is that I don't even know if anything changes or if I've changed because I just can't find the opportunity to test anything. And the highlight of my weekend tends to be sleeping in even if I went to Knott's last weekend and my heart beat faster only at the thought of fear.

And it's not like my heart doesn't beat faster when I talk to Occasional Boy. But he isn't worth the speed and I need to let go of everything I used to be except for everything I am now. And of course it makes no sense because that's the way it's supposed to work.

And touching fingertips
mean touching minds
and touching hearts.



hold me close like we both died
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