Sometimes I feel as if my life is just one reflection of a mirror which is held up to another mirror and then inside all the reflections do I sit on the edge of my bed shirtless and dirty. A mere copy and lineage of an endless boy shirtless and dirty at the edge of a bed. Get my hair cut, clean my room, shave and get a new suit. Look at the mirror. It is not as if I have become someone different, but predictable. I'll accept my inheritence of generations before me to smile when I feel like crying and get sick when I feel pain. But the laughing is always genuine, kid. Maybe you can see the brokeness around the cracks of skin and crumpled eyes, but when I laugh it is always real. It always for you.

So if it matters or not, I think I'll stay like this. Charge during the weekdays, feel thrown around and lonely on Saturday nights. So maybe put on a skirt for me, even if I don't see you. Maybe laugh thinking I would have said something funny if I'd have been there. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I'll be held and warm someday. Somebody will look after me, I'm sure.