excerpt number one from four months ago-

you are an illusion. you’ll leave. you’re stuck in a trap of social anxiety; you’re scared.

no. no.

you’ll stay. you’ll kiss him. you’ll tell him you love him and in turn, make love to him and you’ll be happy for once and you’ll like roses for once and you’ll want to go on hikes for once and you’ll stop wanting to die for once. and you’ll find out what love is through palms seeping with sweat and fingernails and bites and the yellows and purples scattered across your skin and the way he smiles at you and the pictures on his ceiling and the way he feels without a shirt and his stubble and the way he laughs. and then,

when you’ve moved away from the bed,

you’ll fall, tomber,

tomber,

tomber,

for the way he walks and his sympathetic eyes and the way he holds his pens and how self-conscious he is about his hair and the way he kisses your cheek when you leave and the way he says “what?” and the small appetite he holds and the white skin and the flushed cheeks and his arms across your back and-

tomber, tomber, tomber.