CONFESSIONS #2
Once I wrote a smutty story and left it on a park bench. Three-thousand dollars is the most money I have ever made in one month. I am overwhelmed with nostalgia when I think of the tiny, overpriced room I lived in at 282 Broadway in Brooklyn. I believe that most accidents happen near home. Last night I told a stranger a lie. I cannot speak any language but English with fluency; this frustrates me and it is my own fault. I think using the internet has reduced my ability to concentrate for long periods of time. I have started smoking again. I believe gender is relative and subjective. I am uninsurable. I have a scar on my right hand from punching a clock when I was 20. If I ever write you a poem it means I am madly in love with you. I make excellent fish tacos. I abhor inconsistency. I was engaged for two months; that was also my own fault.
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