i saw your name, and i swear it startled me. even though i was looking for it, knew it was just right there, so out of reach. mocking me with its nameness. one of my psychiatrists once told me that she was so proud i hadn’t hurt myself. how fucking pathetic am i that this is what elicits vicarious pride. sometimes i feel ancient. like it’s all too much to know, too much burden upon my heart. numb and heavy and kind of satirical and cynical and full of bitter laughter that others mistake for lightheared fairweather fun. other days i’m still 12. i’m alone. i’m so unsure, so uncertain. the world is so huge and nauseating, like a heavy, too-sweet perfume. i don’t know what to do with my arms and legs. i don’t know which way to look. how much eye contact is too much? is it a hug or a handshake? should i laugh at this point? or frown and nod seriously? it’s all just so confusing.