Monday, 1 December 2008

A Night In These Shoes

Sometimes I feel like a glass bowl falling off a table, breaking into a million pieces. And you would come and put me back together, make me new.

I think I just heard my grandmother coughing really loudly. Its 2:30 am at night. There is no place lonelier than this bed.

Today I laughed so much I had tears in my eyes.

Hello, I think you’re beautiful. Bet you’ve heard that before.

Later on, I tried to call her on her birthday but she didn’t pick up the phone. Now my birthday is round the bend and I strangely wish for her to do the same, and not say a word.

Last night I woke up with a jolt from a bad dream and saw a silhouette of a large man standing at my bedroom door.
I never realized how tall my brother is.

Today I took a picture of myself and could not decide why I’m not photogenic. Maybe it’s because whenever I smile in front of a camera, it’s never real.

Today I sat in a room full of microphones and didn’t speak. But I am happy. This is who I want to be. I wish I could tell you. I wish you could see me now.

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