another negative entry dont read if youre sensitive

What was I saying?

I don't know how  the pattern started exactly. Knowing that I was doing something unhealthy but so stubborn to do so.

I feel like this is the story of a person so very lost that they had to ruminate on long passages of youth and rebellion to determine just where they dropped off. And they could have been doing that last time. This is when or where or how I dropped off my face. My face to be obliterated by my memory of what i loooked like.

Enter Nur. Enter Friend called Boy Friend. Enter desert roads that we never travelled down. To be remembered later in more familiar fashions. With James. With Clel. With Family. With comfort. I feel like I will never know what that feels like ever again.

I gone.

I am trying to figure out. Why it is we mistakenly abuse eache other. And the things we remembered. Are very different from one another. Did I close my ears as I told him I needed attention? I am I am I am no woman. I could never be. They see it I see it.

Just now, the road being orange. The sky very blue and winter. And back farther, the yellowness of the dingy apartment. Brown carpet. Opaque lighting. Beige countertops. Hours passing. What it feels like to know what you want or need, in opposition to what someone wants is a very different step on the stairs than when you don't know what you want. When you don't know what you want is when you can let your gaurd down. To try something new. To endure it long enough to really be sure that you already knew that you

didnt want any fingers in the back of your mouth
shutting down a quiet scream tiny in its origin
mouth mutterings muffled
three or four fingers