my response to rational criticism

 for a split second i'm suicidal.

of course i am, a labor of love

torn and tattered by a man (yes,

a man) who i met less than a 

fortnite ago (yes, a fortnite, not 

a fortnight). but its easy to 

ignore and deflect, blame his

manhood and his newness, i 

can take his words and his 

underlined meanings and create

something worth reading; no 

mores spitting out and wishing i 

was better. because i shouldn't

look for the most interesting word, 

but the most precise one. the 

feeling isn't anxiety, its compassion. 

 

I read that in a bathroom stall once.