13.8.13

I want to shove my face onto someone's.
I miss skin.
I miss how boys have thick skin.
And I miss sleeping with my hand on a booty.
But I do not miss pain.
And I do not miss bruises.
And I do not miss crying until my stomach is sick.
And I feel as if I'm to throw up from it.
And I do not miss being bled dry.

But I miss a partner in crime.
And that doesn't necessarily have to be a boy.
But boys partake in similar crimes.
I want someone else who has adventures in mind.
Rather than spending my time talking my friends into doing things with me.
Being the only one who is this hyper.
Being the only one who has to release such energy.

I feel less creative these days.
The fact that I can't graffiti is killing me.
I spray in my dreams.
And then I spend my dream with anxiety over being caught before my court date.


Articity is about to start.
A business that I am an advisor for.
A business of six babes.
Clara, Yazmin, Briana, Derek, Ian, and me.
We are all doing this.
On the 19th floor at 801 2nd street in Manhattan.
This makes me feel powerful.
And like a part of me is grinding towards success.

Though I feel happy and in love with myself.
And I don't have the anxiety that the shadows cast.
I am.
I am not really exercising my full capabilities at all.
I can not wait for school to start.
Because I need more weirdos.
And I can find skin there.



The more I think of sleeping with someone in the full sense.
The more I say silently to myself that I will never do that.
I know it's not true.
But.
.
.
.

It surely feels so right now.
I don't know if I'll be sleeping with anyone who I am not in a relationship with.
Or become in one eventually.
And that means.
That these eight months.
Are only the beginning of my patience.  














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