I just need some time away to remember why I stay.
You're gone. No mailing address. But I send you letters anyway.
I have a really terrible sense of direction.
I collect flickering stars in old pickling jars, poking holes in the lids so they can breathe.
A man touched me: his hand... my thigh. I touched him too: my fist... his jaw.
I've been hearing it a lot, especially in the last few years; people will say things to me like "Well, if only I was like you in that movie," or "If only I could be with someone like you in that movie." And, you know, it's very flattering to hear that.