Be my beard

Be my beard 

I just saw my least favourite person. I don’t know why she pisses me off so much, but the prospect of speaking to her makes me want to peel my skin off.

I feel like I blinked and it’s 2025, I can only remember 2007 - I would have been six and just beginning to grasp the concept of a year. I remember feeling like it would always be 2007.

I guess not. As I am now staring down the barrel of 24 in 2025, plucking a loose chewing gum out the bottom of my skanky bag (yes to chew lol).

Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to be a girl; I see women who just seem so right, so natural as if being them is effortless. Whereas, I feel like everything I do is a performance - to some extent at least.

Are we all feeling like that? Waiting with held breath for someone with authority to shout CUT so the show can finally end. No? Okay.

I’m looking for a beard; not a conventional one shielding me from homophobia, but to glide me through life. I want someone by my side to give me existence legitimacy.

Now I’m reading that back, it does seem unhinged. But, that I am.

I feel naked when I have no one to shield me in social situations, no one to return to. I like my own company, I crave it. Yet, in the presence of the off putting - the unknown I long for a safety net.

Without this person it’s only a matter of time before I’m discovered.

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