even i don't want to see myself like this.

He's worried and careful, and he's always been around. He's talked me out of my worst places, when I couldn't see things clearly. He treated me like feather light, rice paper thin things; he saw through the styrofoam walls I'd painted to look steel. He never fell for my bullshit--he rarely even got mad about it.

"I'm fine." I repeat it just like that and he always calls the lie. But I never try harder to pretend.

Of course he yelled at me when he found out what I keep inside the tin box on my shelf. Sure nothing happened, but of course he would worry.

He's worried but I'll never listen, because I'm not invisible to him.

I most like the ones who don't see me, so I can live in perpetual misery.

-------------------------------------

I have never wanted to find someone before, so badly.

Maybe that was because I'd rather be with nobody than with a boy. Maybe I didn't realize how gay and feminist I am. Maybe the power dynamics of gender roles are the biggest turnoff in existence to me.

Maybe I thought friendship was more than enough. Well, maybe it would be, if I could meet other people who thought that way. But realistically, a lot of people want families, especially people I know. Real life blood-related marriage-tied traditional dysfunctional families.

-- But I don't ever want to risk becoming my mom. I don't care much for cooking fancy things or being ladylike or any of that. Cranky in the morning and miserable at night, despite all I've done just the way they told me to. No thanks.

It's not like I can forget, my actually pretty decent family messed me up enough to let me know it's harder to be healthy than it looks. Everyone is screwed, gonna end up with complexes and scars, no matter how hard we try. And in the end blood doesn't fix everything or heal the wounds it left.

Maybe it's because I know she'll go away and I don't have the courage to be any more alone than I am now. Maybe I'm just jealous and scared of that feeling. Or maybe I want to be the first to leave.

Maybe I figured I'd be dead already.

Yup, maybe lots of things. But mostly I guess I want someone to kiss and I want someone who cares and I want to be even, equal with someone.

I'm not tough. I'm lonely and tired and so sick of liking her and worrying him.

Then again I like the despair I've fed for so long. I cling to it a little bit, sometimes. Like when I read Bukowski or make art.

I think maybe I just want to be someone's favorite, too. Instead of always feeling things alone.

I'm not sure what I want, I'm a mess of contradictions.