(i would be better off living inside your heart.)
dear you, yes, you:
thinnest in the morning and coldest at night, this is my story, this is my fight. i have freckles, i like the color turquoise, & quilts & night time.
this year i was diagnosed with an eating disorder. for seven years i have struggled with demons inside my head. i am rewiring my brain, restitching my heart.
but i am not just measured in how many pounds i weigh.
a heart pumping blood
a girl (xx chromosomes mark the spot!)
a vegan (9/17/11)
feministpolitically charged (liberal)
i am more than a disease that has not yet set me free. i am fiercely loyal, cursedly independent and i stay up too late into the night. i make an effort to be kind. someday, i will burn brighter than the sun.
(and that’s what counts, in the end. the contents of your soul, not your stomach)
i like: beautiful women, great legs, boys’ clothing, those dreaded nice guys, curly hair, natural hair, distinct lack of make-up, sun kisses, freckles, long eyelashes, green grass, sleeping during car rides, people who have big smiles, my grandmother, music from everywhere and anywhere, banjos, typing, writing, running a lot, giggling, my girlfriends, taking baths, kicking my own ass at the gym, having big legs, being strong, the show friends, and seinfield, tv on dvd, october, and also june, my future, my parents for the most part, being hispanic, being weird, liking weird stuff, spending money on clothes, my blankets, my sister, and eating a lot of fruit. also, being gross. i’m really good at that.
my soul is thunderous and loud. my footsteps very quiet.