Watching women who's words I walked around with when I was only sixteen years old. I thought I knew what they were talking about then - as it turns out, I had no idea.
So I sit, watching, stringing chains around my neck, not unlike when I disrobed and re-robed in his room six nights ago. I won't admit it (who would?), but I'm also surveying in the moments in between all of this watching...now there are others, with their cellulite-free, tanned asses hanging out on his wall. One with an Eastern European last name that reminds me of a person I'm trying quite hard to forget as of late.
And so it is. Moisturizing my face tonight, watching those women who I thought I understood when I was too young to really know anything, I realized that I've never been 'rejected' because I've never let myself be. Careful, careful, because all of the good advice in the world won't do me any good when I'm up to no good, and it's just far too easy to tiptoe about and play this game with oneself.
So it is, so it is, so I keep watching. If I didn't quite comprehend these questions back then, then there's a chance that I may have missed the part with all of the answers too?