I wait all day and then when I finally get to it, my skin feels hollow. Like the air isn't reaching my belly. Like a meditation, where time passes by unnoticed, but instead of becoming one within myself, the whole ugly, fake world remains standing while I collapse.



I think it is proof of my weakness that my convictions are empty ...

My favorite lotion is Alba Hawaiian cocoa butter and my favorite drink is Thai iced tea. Or so I thought, anyway, until my dad told me I smell like Play-Doh and my mom's friend proclaimed after one sip that Thai tea tastes like "campfires."

The smart part of me (I'm not allowed to be negative about myself these days, but normally I would specify that this is the smaller part) says, "hey, you're wrong! This shit's awesome!" But the weakling part of me seeks out the Play-Doh smell and the burning wood taste, recognizing the parts that other people might find untasty.

Or maybe it's the compassion in me. Let's call it that. I'm going to go ahead and say it has to do with readily seeing things from others' perspective. I don't just mean sensory stuff like food and lotions, but also socially and emotionally. I think I have the ability to look at someone I like and see their shortcomings through someone else's insight, or the reverse of that. So it's probably not a bad thing that I can admit to cardamom's woody undertones and cocoa butter's natural bitterness.

But damnit, why people gotta hate on my shit?