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It's so hard to keep track of the things I experience. Everything seems to jumble and make a mess of itself. I play a puzzle with every attempt to reflect.1

It's impossible when things calm down, too, because the silence is so present that I can't do much outside of rearrange my internal time line to the best of my ability.2

I'm some little girl trying her best to play woman, wearing her mother's wedding dress in a hole-in-the-wall cafe.3

Look at me try to be sophisticated with my shiny Dell laptop, messenger bag, and college size text book.4

Gonna be an author5

Gonna major in fine art and dance6

Gonna be the only girl in te family who graduates high school.7

Gonna be popular8

Funny9

Pretty10

Skinny11

Anything but this.12

Gonna blend in with the rest, gonna get along, function, eat, shit, cry, masturbate at the same way everyone else does.13

Is it bad to want to be normal?14

When someone approaches you, you have PTSD, you wanna flash a warning sign.15

It's like they don't know they're petting a hungry lion.16

And a small army walks off with missing hands.17