Britney

In Starbucks, when I kept rubbing the goosebumps on my arms and counting down hours by minutes, I told Z that I didn’t feel anything anymore. That isn’t true. I feel a nonstop sickness, one that has me scrambling for a self like an amnesiac and seeing faces in empty cars. I watch what I think is the world watching me. I heard my name everywhere last night. I thought I’d never make it back here and I’m so grateful that I have but it doesn’t even feel real anymore. Will I ever go back? Or rather, will I rise from this renewed and far better, far more intelligent and thoughtful and aware? How do I let my intuition win?

I’m only 18, but I should be smarter. I am smarter, deep down, but I’ve buried it so deeply that I can it hear it struggling to breathe.

I wish I could be this cat, staring at the breeze. He doesn’t know what blood is.