I am young. I am unforgivable. I am young, still, after all these years. When I was a baby my mother abandoned me in a dumpster but luckily I was saved and raised by a gaze of racoons, which is the word for a group of racoons. I think solely in the sixth person, which is something I invented. I remember what it was like. I do NOT contain multitudes, I contain a baker’s dozen at very most. I found a book I wanted at the Goodwill for two dollars but it had an orange sticker, and it was orange sticker day, so it was only ONE DOLLAR. I once almost won the world record for longest trudge through the desert, but at the very last second I was unfortunately distracted by a mirage, but it was just a mirage of the scene from challengers where they all kiss a bunch. I am hotly debated. I possess both characteristics and traits. I was the one who sent you that letter. 

I told my mom about us. I saw what you did. I have spent countless hours on duolingo learning languages that I will never be able to speak. I scribbled out the ending and wrote in something happier. In attempting to evade the prophecy I inadvertently fulfilled the prophecy. I never learned how to whistle. In a dream last night the angel appeared to me and said, “Are you a boy or a girl?” like a little kid does. And I said I’m a girl. But I could be convinced otherwise. And the angel said, “Decry what you have been and take up the armor of a man, take up the sword, take up a new life. Let the world as it once was be and forge a new world, a new self, unmoored from what they made you. What is a woman? What is a man? What do you have in your back left pocket? What is the point? The point is that everything in your life is yours. You have total control. Your new self will eclipse the old in no time.”

I keep my tongue in the wrong place in my mouth.