what i mean is, i understand the business of lying to your friends' faces.

i want to shed my skin and become something untainted by my fear. every mean thing ive ever thought and been ashamed of would be abandoned in the husk of my cocoon, i would float away untethered to wrongdoing.

i know my faults: each one burned into my palms until my hands clench tight and shine with sweat, i cant let go because i do, i know my faults, and if im not careful you will too.

what i mean is, i know what it is to pity and be pitied, and to hate that pity so intensely it feels as if your bones will catch like timber and youll go up in flames like the log cabin you arent. i want to burn down. i want to burn every fucking thing down.

my fingernails make tiny marks on my palms, my muscles hold the memory of tension, the way people walk matches the way they're feeling and i used to have excellent posture.

what i mean is, i want to tell you i understand completely but i only know the half of it.

my hands shake.

my throat burns slow.

it takes me four tries to get the campfire going.