This Was The Year I Stopped Talking

I meant that to be "writing" at the end and I meant there to be an "I wish" at the beginning because this is actually the year I get my wisdom teeth pulled and etc. etc. who fucking cares, etc. et al. I'm dramatic about the small things, blase about the big: accent aigu at your leisure -- I'll just be over here: listening to electronica, hiccuping, running in circles and waiting to procreate again, again. Every child should have their picture taken whilst waving a sparkler - illuminated by the sparks, her profile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But she is too sacred to photograph and too subtle to sketch and too infinite to contextualize and too alive to dimensionalize. They are so tender and fragile and they only learn mean. And "we" are only the beaten, widowed, orphaned "them."

I resolve to make it better for her and for him.