i'm kinda in this space. it's eerie. it's like there's nothing really grounding me. i have this annoyed history and this vague present. sometimes i have these words that i'm writing. sometimes i don't.

too many people have been mentioning the word "therapy" in my presence. the word on the streets is that i'm not in touch with my feelings. i lead a distracted life. i don't get the jokes. i bite my fingernails.

dear poopy lover,

i told myself i wasn't going to write in here anymore.

i can't make you laugh. i'd never meant to. i can't make you cry, either. it just happens to be this thing that you're sometimes doing when this body's around.

i'm moving soon. to be closer to... something. closer to something further away from here.

today is autumn's birthday. happy birthday, autumn.