Andrada Predescu

June 9, 1999 - Bucharest
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all my jagged edges

I smoke too much
though I know its bad for me and I fall too hard and too often though I know its bad for me
I overreact and can break at a single word I’ve tried to build a thicker skin
A tough exoskeleton
One to withstand all the years of hurt
But I’m soft
I’m just this membrane I absorb it all
things said in passing
And they lodge themselves in me,
like bullet fragments, moving every so often to cut again
in places where I’d thought I’d healed.
I can go a full day without talking to anyone
spend it all inside my head
can traverse time and space without ever leaving my bed
I playact at being a cold cynic
though I feel this intense longing for closeness
sometimes need to look away when I see strangers sharing tender moments caught in this fear that
it’ll never be me.
I’ll never have that
So I shroud myself in sarcasm
and steel myself in coldness
pretending that if I will myself not to care enough that desire for connection will just dissipate
it never does.
and hours later ill be ruminating in my own nostalgia, steeping in it
though it never helps.
Remembering everything, small things.
Words people throw at you they never go away.
I still remember how someone once told me I chew gum like a cow still occurs to me every time I unwrap a piece

I care too much
I have so many scabs
I’ve come to run my fingers over them almost daily a habitual self sadism
my only friends at the moment.
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