itchy
after such a prolonged period of silence, i do feel itchy to spit out some words, fragments, stretch the boundaries of my person to include this space. i am small, tiny, with big ears and a big mouth, but not really, you know? i love to imagine the glamorous women in their ripped clothing and studded heels and juicy lips dramatically conquering their lives. jesus christ i hope it feels the way i’d like it to. i’ve been chasing feelings for years, the crisp, fresh, foreign feeling of new clothing, of devestatingly gorgeous males, of giggles and spirits with cosy friends, but don’t promise anyone anything, because it isn’t like everyone says. you won’t wake up one day and think, yeah i WILL give everything away to love. do you know what’s better than love? not being in love. being alone in the world and starfish-laying in your bed and eating chocolate for dinner and not brushing your teeth. and when you feel like it, putting on your sluttiest of panties and going to some dirty house party and staring unashamedly at the most gorgeous thing in the room and ending up on the quiet streets in the dawn with whomever is as inspired as you. you know? do you understand? do you? we fucking die alone, and good, because someone else would never get it anyway.
