Randall says, “you best not go hide in your shell again.” 

he only says that because i’m a cancer, or maybe because when i get my feelings hurt, i wont leave my house for months. i’ve learned how to nurse my wounds that open so easily, the exact amount of musical goodness and cool fan sleep it takes for my mind to quiet. even still, the sound eventually comes crashing in just when i trust the sun to be safe.

for example, i once upon a time had a friend, a boy with a harsh but sometimes brilliant tongue. he knew music, and i yearned so to know the person i was becoming after being in the dark for so long. a friendship built on good conversation, amazing lyrics, and curse words. a boy, however, is never satisfied with the former, and he will always need a high-five or two. he lost my friendship and my respect and my thoughts that he was extraordinary, but the imaginary sex was worth it i imagine. i hope i was limber in his mind and skinnier too. sadly enough, it was the first time i learned that lesson, but it wasn’t the last and i’m still learning it. i’m left to grieve over my own blindness, and people that never existed.

what’s the lesson?

don’t dare be pretty.. don’t dare be friendly.. trust no one.. and keep your fucking mouth shut?

people make me want to lose faith.

so, in these early a.m. hours, i’m decorating my shell. the walls are covered in a rainbow of buttons, and there are twinkle lights strung from one end to the other. there are pictures hanging on strings from my ceiling, the smiling faces of the people i love, my cat, and something with OHIO on it because that state follows me everywhere. the music plays so loud i can’t hear the waves stabbing the shore, and there are blankets covering the windows, so i can’t see the blood.

-m.