An Apothegm

I cried the last time I felt like this. I don’t like crying. I want you to go away before I want you to stay anymore than I already do. I want to hold your hand and kiss you. I am a slave to my wants. I hate dependency. I want you. I don’t want to hate you. I want to be with you more than I want to be alone. I like being alone. I hate reading aloud. I want to read you poetry. I make myself up when I’m with you. I can be anyone. I like feeling invincible. I listen to songs and wish I’d written them about you. I listen to songs and wish you’d written them for me. I am messy, lazy, and unkempt. I want you to think I have everything figured out. I run away because I want you to chase me. I hate the way I think. I want to make a list of movies, books and albums for you. I want you to be an adventure. I dyed my hair an unnatural color. I thought, as the red went down the drain, that it was to be less invisible to you.