Ceci n'est pas une titre

And this is why, my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen

I'm no mind reader. I over-analyze body language, the exact frequency of a nervous giggle, redness of the cheeks, dampness of the palms, length (in cm) of the grin, and vocabulary used in a sentence, but I'm no mind reader. Usually, all the things I over-analyze mean next to nothing when placed beside the actual conscience thoughts zooming in and out of what's-your-face's head.

I'm bad with names, faces, places. I'm good with dates. I'm done if you're done, by the way. I'd rather get out alive now, while I have the chance. With all that dignity and shit.

I take pride in small accomplishments. Like getting my finger pricked and squeezed and not passing out.

I even take pride in being a rare blood type. I want to be set apart from the crowd. Oh, wait. Don't we all?

I listen to the same music as my father does.

I don't like that movie, A Walk To Remember. It's stupid. Don't talk to me about Mandy Moore. Don't talk to me about Nicholas Sparks. He's stupid too. I don't hate The Notebook as much as I hate A Walk To Remember, but seriously, "If you're a bird, I'm a bird?" How is that romantic? Birds are disgusting. Birds pass on disease. They poo on your head. They moult gross greasy feathers everywhere. They are huge and big enough to steal babies. I know what you're going to say. "That's not the point. The point is that Ryan Gosling (Gosling. That's ironic.) would choose to be whatever species Rachel McAdams is, because he just loves her so darn much. Except guess what, that's  stupid too. If someone said that to me, I would start caw-cawing angrily and muss up their hair with my sharp...talons...beak...thing.

I still see you. I do. And I know you see me. And I know what you're thinking. (I'm not a mind reader, though. I'm a mind knower.) But you don't realise that the chasm is filled with debris now, that is being sifted and organized and painted and cut and glued and doused in bneg blood and apple juice.

Holy moly, me oh my