my nail polish is fading and you’re giving up on me. my hair is a mess and so is my mind. i stopped reading and started sleeping once the sun started to show. i pray for release with a stuffed dog on my bed. mom can you come get me things are getting bad again. i feel every word like a sharp tooth and i feel my dreams rotting under my fingernails. i feel too much all the time or else i feel nothing at all. and it doesn’t seem to matter if i drink and dance and party or if i stay at home curled up beneath the covers. mom are you sure when i was born i was a person and not just a vortex. a blackhole. always hungry. always swallowing. no matter how much goes in, i always end up empty. oh and i should redo my nail polish, maybe blue this time.