the theater's so dark that i can barely see, but i can't stop staring at my knees, hoping for just one twitch; wishing for just one thing about me to change, to expand, to grow, because today is my birthday, and i just want to feel older. i just want something special to happen, so that it's not just any other day, any other birthday, any other year. but sometimes i think i'm permanently stuck in 1994 when my little ponies ruled my world; except now, it's jordan catalano who moves me, and i'm obssessed with the hole in the edge of his shirt collar and how it seems to say everything about him. you always did say i lived in another time; and you always did say that you smoked too much to remember things like years, and months, and days, and forgetting is just, like, your g.

(we're better together anyone ever believes)

i'm pretending the blue-carpeted stairs we're sitting on is the sea when you look up and ask me how i'm feeling. i'm ten days late, but i don't tell you that, and when your fingertips drop down to graze my cheek, i reach up to feel the plastic flower you've placed behind my ear, and suddenly, i remember the time i said our love wouldn't die if it were encased in plastic; the time you replied that we should stop sitting in the sun for so long, and i can't help but wonder if you remember it too.