Whatever you say I am

May 12, 2015

9:15 a.m.

"I can only think in Twitter-speak. I’m drunk, and I want to talk to you. I need to talk. But when it’s time, when you ask me “about what?” I’ll pretend I didn’t have anything to say, because I’m terrified. I’ve never been so confused before, but then again, I’m drunk.

I need to tell you what’s on my mind, but I can’t. It’d ruin you. And I need to write a paper, but I can’t, I’m drunk. Do you love me?" 

A month or so later, and Dear God, am I enlightened. A Tumblr queen. The voice of a generation. Someone get me a fucking whisky on the rocks and talk to me about education reform or the problems in mainstream journalistic media. I'm not confused, I'm confident, and I love your romper, where'd you get it?  

"When I go to California..." I'm so young, I can do whatever I want. No real consequences, I pretend to believe. I'm applying to grad school but they haven't opened the application yet. Yeah, I do go tanning, and I know how horrible it is for me but I hope the cigarettes kill me first; skin cancer is visible, and only blackened lungs would mean a prettier presentation in the casket. Bury me in that sunflower dress, I hope it still fits when I'm dead.

Woe is me, pity parties and exaggerations and read receipts and upside-down cross tattoos. Sickening stupor, mind-blowing disbelief, I'm so young; I do whatever I want. I can only think in Twitter-speak. I'm the voice of a generation, if only you want me to be.