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I feel sick about this. All of this.
Every time I go to conventions, things HAPPEN.
Is it a bad thing if, when someone tells you he likes you--and you like him too--then ten minutes later you have a nervous breakdown and hide under your table in the artist's alley and cry for no ******** reason for about thirty minutes?

Just because you're scared?
Because there's no good reason why anybody would want to be with you?
Because he deserves better than you?
Because you're not good enough?

He asked me to the ball, and I almost hid from him--I was walking down hallways, checking over my shoulder, freezing whenever anyone stepped out of a room. Trying to hide at the sight of a shadow on the wall.
In the end, I didn't, but my heart was in my mouth the entire time.

He wasn't there today, though. Thank god.
I owe him too much already.

I feel awful.
I wish you were online. I wish anyone was online--anyone to say anything to make me feel less unsettled with myself.

these lips are not as tender as they seem
they are battle-hardened


The start of a poem I began on Saturday.
I don't know what to say next.

Someone speak to me.
Say anything.