My body is rusting.
I catch myself doing dangerous things and I wonder if I'm doing them because I dont care if I die, or because I just want to live a little. I'm getting braver. Or I'm getting smaller.
Dangerous: walking in the cold with damp hair, riding new roller coasters, drinking beer from a can, not cleaning out deep cuts, no shoes where there is broken glass, not paying attention in class, falling for a boy again.
haha, this is why everyone leaves me. Yeah?
HIT THIS BEAT: I have a great uncle who is ultra perverted, probably gay. lives alone on my grandparents' farm and raises baby chickens in the house every year. gives me year-old candy canes when I see him. tried to kill himself a few years ago.
Kindergarten, Erin came down almost every single day and made me stop crying. First grade, my mom almost couldnt go on my field trip to the woods. Second grade, I told more lies than ever before. Third grade, thunderstorm, dead teacher. Fourth grade, I tried to impress David with my art kit. Fifth grade, I learned what a condom really was. Sixth grade, a boy asked me out by handing me a paper football. I said no. Seventh grade, I smoked a cigarette. Eighth grade, I had to find a new lunch table and all new friends. Ninth grade, English teacher told my I was ready for college. Tenth grade, I finally left the country. Eleventh grade, everything.