I’m in the closet, I made it my home despite the bugs. I’m going to live here, cover myself in towels and sleep. I will not share this space with anyone. I am alone for some reason, there isn’t anyone home, the lights are off the couch is an unfamiliar black. We don’t live here, why do I live here? The cemetery is closed, but the moon shines on it keeping the ghost awake. Why am I here alone? There are spiders on this closet the lock on the fridge, Khaled’s orange soda and promise to Disneyland and I can’t keep secrets or surprises, I knew there would be cake and soda that would get me sick but I ate it in the festivity. Why am I still in this closet despite my body growing so large?
Somewhere on the other side of the world is an alternate me, she probably has the same name but lives with cans and cats. She is probably approaching her death bed while I explore the unknown prime of life. She has probably thought about this before. I don’t know