I am small. mostly, 105 lbs. so mostly, I am small.
I am scared (well, nervous) and often, anxious.
(you will never see me give my name voluntarily,
to anyone but a hippie) I am also a hippie. A
green and honey golden child. I am mulatto:
half black and half white. This has never
bothered me. this means I am special.

I am (the horror!) attractive. Which means mostly,
that I am a lie. Because poets should never be,
beautiful. It only severs to thin the line,
between talent and boredom (see also: fame).
Also, it is ruining me. Boys called me beautiful,
too much. (and it got to me.) Now, I can call
myself beautiful. Because I am. Hell.

I have fallen in love 2 ½ times. (don't ask,)
I have journals, named after them. And I don't like
that I have journals named after them. Because
as an author, names are important to me.
And the perfect ones, belong to these boys.

I have fucked five boys. (actually some were men).
So as you can see, I've broken a few rules.
I've also cheated before, and lied about it.
I've fucked three different people in one week before.
I smoke pot, but not cigarettes. For now, not cigarettes.

[um...part one?]