Who am I?
I am eighteen years old.
I am on the Dean's List.
I am silly.
I am insecure
But, I am also strong.
I draw.
I love cats.
I skate.
I love art.
I am a Muslim.
I am a Floridian.
I am different
But, I am also unique.
I am me.
Who are you?
Who am I?
I am eighteen years old.
I am on the Dean's List.
I am silly.
I am insecure
But, I am also strong.
I draw.
I love cats.
I skate.
I love art.
I am a Muslim.
I am a Floridian.
I am different
But, I am also unique.
I am me.
Who are you?
It takes 14 minutes and twelve seconds to walk to your home from mine every day. Your mother never fails to smile at me when she opens the door. I never fail to notice that it doesn't reach her eyes anymore.
You leave your door open an exact two point three centimeters. I don't think you do it on purpose. There is something wrong with the wood that has left it that way. I pause one foot outside the door and listen to you cough, trying to determine how sick you feel today. I hate that every time I think you are particularly ill, I am always right.
Six months, seventeen days and fourteen hours. That is how long its been since the d