in passing

I went to the doctor’s for an appointment today, and to kill time, my mother drove around the neighbourhood that we lived in when I was three years old. I couldn’t remember the playgrounds I used to play in, but somehow I recognized the circulars in the intersections where the small roads met. We drove around them, many times. Circling and circling. I don’t know what they’re called.

I ate some of that dried seaweed stuff, Korean-style, in the car. She told me that I wasn’t allowed to have that as a child because I’d get little pieces of it all over the carpet and it was a bitch to clean up. I’d thought it was because it was too expensive.

in the afternoon i watched myself laugh onscreen in a room with bad acoustics, making my voice loud and static-y.

apparently i enjoy eating pomelos and processed chips with bright orange powder.

what
the
fuck
are
you
laughing
at?

He’s gone now, so everything’s different, yet it’s all still the same. In our mannerisms and the way they ignore us. Aren’t we always speaking to blank names and blank faces, every one of our interactions exchangeable?
Nothing is valuable.

The other one, he speaks to himself in gym class. Mutters under his breath and displays hand motions to no one. A long time ago, I had shoes that squeaked across the painted floor. The same pair doesn’t do that anymore. Maybe the floor’s different. I left.

This isn’t the first time, is it? It’s eighth grade all over again. My hair is blonder and my face more dotted, but I’ve not really gotten older.

There was a scale at the doctor’s office. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been, so why am I so hollow inside?

keep laughing, onscreen-me. keep laughing. one day there’ll be something you should actually be laughing about
just prepare for that day

.tkae me to th end alredy