November 1st

I make the other children feel unsafe. I am seven, and I am separated. I am loud and I push a boy over. His dog just died and my parents just divorced. I use hand sanitizer until cracks form between my fingers and the alcohol stings. 

I cut slits in the leg holes of my underwear so that blood can circulate to my brain, I spray myself head to toe with bug spray so that I don’t contract malaria. 

You can break a CD with just the vibrations from a speaker, and somewhere on the border of France and Switzerland, you can even accelerate particles to find new ones.

You can connect every dot in your head, and you can cross the bridge whenever you need to go to Spirit halloween. You can even get sick twice in one month, fever and all.

I have a beautiful disease, like tuberculosis. And I know who I’ve given it too, some names I can mention, and some which I cannot. I like these kinds of secrets.