Leaves that are falling around me, make sense to me.
There is a eight year old girl eating sherbert icecream in her bedroom. It is her favorite.
She bought it with the change she collected afterschool that day on the street by her house where the icecream truck passes.
The little girl puts her treat down and takes a quick to her bathroom.
From somewhere, her mother is enraged and grabs the minty mess, sqaushing cold between her webs,
and flings it into a trashcan.
Is the little girl overweight? Is the little girl greedy? Selfish? Disrespectful and fucked up? She wonders.
This happens to the litte girl day everyday.
She is so idle.
I want to drown in it.
My batteries have all gone dead.
The roots of my so softly straightened hair are now obvious.
I am dry.
I am confused.
I'm scared.
I want to have someone.
I always ask myself how can i be a psychologist if i'm under some mysterious
diagnosis now.
I want just one person.
I really want something.. someone exciting enough for breath bearable.
Then again,
everyone is noone.
I think that i want to die.
When things go to waste and is nothing more than a plastic triangle, that for some interesting reason sticks to the side of my leg, who is going to supply me a new plastic whatever?
-Yours Truly, Nikita
She bought it with the change she collected afterschool that day on the street by her house where the icecream truck passes.
The little girl puts her treat down and takes a quick to her bathroom.
From somewhere, her mother is enraged and grabs the minty mess, sqaushing cold between her webs,
and flings it into a trashcan.
Is the little girl overweight? Is the little girl greedy? Selfish? Disrespectful and fucked up? She wonders.
This happens to the litte girl day everyday.
She is so idle.
I want to drown in it.
My batteries have all gone dead.
The roots of my so softly straightened hair are now obvious.
I am dry.
I am confused.
I'm scared.
I want to have someone.
I always ask myself how can i be a psychologist if i'm under some mysterious
diagnosis now.
I want just one person.
I really want something.. someone exciting enough for breath bearable.
Then again,
everyone is noone.
I think that i want to die.
When things go to waste and is nothing more than a plastic triangle, that for some interesting reason sticks to the side of my leg, who is going to supply me a new plastic whatever?
-Yours Truly, Nikita