another day when my soul was not chosen. they kissed me on the neck again and squeezed my knee while I was talking about my favorite color. which one? blue?

I guessed wrong.

I was never really naked, I didn’t talk about my losses, about how in fact I am a small traumatized element in this inhuman system of evaluation by external criteria.

I was in pain and scared. to cry, to laugh, to seem stupid. it turned out that it doesn’t matter and isn’t necessary: ​​

how bruised my knees are. you won’t pay attention and will squeeze them with your fingers again.