Examination

She has a chin with a little cleft in it from her dad and a round nose that hates the constant pinching. She wakes up and smiles at herself in order to prevent any further distortion, but her smile is fake and altered and she only liked it when she had to wear a retainer. He thought the lisp was cute. Her white blood cell count is normal and she always has a temperature of 98.7 degrees, precisely. Her toes bother her and she wishes people noticed her freckles instead of the pouch around her middle that was constantly there, just a little reminder. She loves making lists and goals and schedules but stores them away in a little box for lists instead of completing them. She wants to leave so bad, so bad. Leave and run from the people who make her feel secure because she needs to feel challenged and helpless and humbled. She made this hard to read on purpose. She keeps and hoards everything with meaning. She still has that poem you wrote her in ninth grade that was son wonderfully terrible and she wishes you told her more. She keeps everything she hears about herself and about others and puts them in Manila folders because sometimes she forgets who she is. She has three clocks in her room because she is afraid than one day time will stop and she won't be able to progress. She's afraid of them. Of all of them. Them who point and them who jeer and them who never understood. She's terrified mostly of herself and her impulses and she's worried about becoming a boy. She touches the lockers as she passes by because they hold things that she will never see but they belong to someone and she wants a piece of that belong. She wants a hearty helping of belong served with compliments and a rich dessert filled with love and real friends. She wants carpe diem and hakuna matata and Jane, Jane, Jane. She waits at the same corner every day, watching the same cars, hating the same people, and wishing she could love them the way everyone else does. She, the mortal mess who roamed unconsciously through an honestly grand adventure.

Emotionally, yes.
Physically, no.
My greatest fear? Death like people dying.
My greatest desire?
Don't judge me, because it may indeed be to die.

I hope you're kissing somebody on the Brooklyn Bridge right now.

Some different writing

remember that time when i was infinitely happy and used cliches.and remember when you did too.
I used to play with your mind like you used to play with your baby brother.
I
          was
                          so
                                                                                    ....superior
and reluctant to admit it and in charge.
I think that really
I think that maybe
I think that even if
I think that I know
I think I'm sorry
I think that
I think
I
I
I
I
.
Okay I don't think I act I'm impulsive I'm emotional I'm unstable
O.K. I ruined it but I think I ruined it a long time ago.
Oh Kay maybe this is eccentric and weird and awful but maybe this is how I'm feeling and maybe I'm feeling unbroken and broken at the same time and somehow the cracks make me whole.
Okay maybe I'm stuck in the memories but O.K. I think its repression so just ignore it and let it be.

I have a wild imagination and I'm not good at hiding it.
Maybe I have schizophrenia because I'm carelessly wandering into alternate realities where you are always,
and he is always, and we are always.
Always.

I'm too afraid, I'm too scared, I'm too frightened, I'm too excited.
Excited?

Cheater cheater
wears a wife beater
pumpkin eater
Peter

That rhymed but you never cheated on me because its impossible to cheat on a test that you never prepared for or maybe for a test that you never even took?

maybe the reason why i am stuck is because i never tried to get out.maybe now i am ready to catch trout.
Trout?

Seriously though

I moved on a long time ago but it took my head a long time to catch up to my heart.
I have low blood circulation.

It was just always.

"Oh honey, it was just today."

Only today, only tomorrow, only yesterday. Only always. Forgive me for being cynical but I'm reaching for something that nobody can understand and for a call that no one will hearken to. I breathe slower and pedal faster, going nowhere, finding you. Always finding you. At every corner, in every book; my story is getting anti-climatic and you are ruining the plot. Mouthing the words but never speaking them; glancing but never looking at me. Touching your finger to my lips but never daring to linger longer, assuming independence. 

"Oh honey, it was just today."

Just today when he glared and thought I was preoccupied. Just today when I was the dramatic one and it meant less than pennies to anyone else. Just always. Just always. Your narcoleptic limbs amaze me; one moment rushing towards me with the force of every gale that ever gushed through the canyon, and the next indifferent and unaware of my brain studying you and willing you to remember. Your words softly land on my shoulder but are never directed to the source, never attain their full interpretation. Narrow your eyes and focus on who I am for one moment. Remember my name, remember my face, but recognize my deformed figure in a crowd. 

"Oh honey, it was just today."

When I'm transformed into an imaginary voice and an imaginary opinion and he likes it. When I somehow know and he somehow knows too. My fears are worth more than my desires and I despise it. I am contemptuous and unforgiving, and I cannot draw the veil from my eyes. Read me and remember, draw nearer and discover a girl who is different but the same.