She is Sex;

I want you to feel uncomfortable when you read this. I want you to think about the words that you’ve said and the looks you’ve given me, or her. I want you to cringe at the next line and the next and the next, like I’ve cringed at your ‘compliments.’ & I don’t want it …

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From a file of numerically titled entries;

She’s a slob, a vagrant, a nameless wanderer, drifting in and out like so many chapters in a dream, occasionally a nightmare. She’s been aimless for so long, she’s forgotten if she ever had a purpose. Erratic and fickle, she’s a wayward soul, grasping for meaning, wishing she had one inkling where she was. Someone …

She is;

She is barely a breath in the lives of so many. She is only a wisp of a flashing remembrance of a girl vaguely dreamt up behind closed eyes. She is never a constant; what does it even mean to be? She is an effervescent cheer; a fleeting reality, an enigmatic species of wistful character. …