jerkface confuses me. not jerkface, him, but the word. it loses me. but so much does. I'm walking this line and asking: what will you choose, little girl? but we both know the answer. you turn around and step backwards into the - what if you keep walking the line. eventually the earth rotates and you cannot run at the speed of one thousand and sixty kilometres per hour, can you?
I feel that I should make the last hole myself - seventeen is a good number. wholesome. wholly. I'm starting to feel cold in the morning, coffee-starved and blank-eyed, but I'm sure I can hold on. it's an art I'm well-practiced at.
my sister wrote to me, and my smile was real.