A New Person

It’s not that I’m jealous of you or your snazziness and life of the party-ness. I guess it’s more frustration that MY Way hasn’t earned me much. I mean, I don’t want to wear your crazy clothes or wear your boobs but I stand over there on that corner in those heels, wearing those earrings, completely lost. Crickets, zombees (I don’t see them, but I hear them calling, moaning, your name.) I guess I’m lucky I don’t have zombees with how they’re all pretty much, ya know…. dead? And all they’re really after is your blood. I feel like my blood’s not as red as yours – more burgundy. I always thought burgundy was classy but “classy” (from what I’ve gathered) is a slow moving thing, but ends up lasting a real long time. But it’s fine. Let the world practice on you. Meanwhile, I’ll be here working on beautiful things and building my character. I sincerely wish you happiness and I bid thee farewell.

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