my face is a mirror
i’m reading words that belong to other people loudly when i look up and catch a veiw of myself in the mirror. i have grown up in this computer sitting much the same all my knees bent against this desk and my foot a little smashed, i suppose i was shorter the first time i sat here. i like to think that i was younger and stupider: only because it would infer that i am now older and smarter. but m y face isn’t the same. and when did i start looking eighteen? i remember being 14 and driving around on your birthday while you were in wichita and i was wondering about our first time, and what it mean that it was my first time and i was fourteen and now here i am. i just sit and i wait and i wonder for something to happen. but the mirror shows my face and these words are my mirror. i’m terrified. i’m constant. i’m not quite constistent. but i’m kind of looking forward to looking nineteen. i’ve always prefered odd numbers. and you and i were an odd number, am i right?