So I already felt vulnerable enough, just sharing it, felt uncomfortable, like sitting on a chair that has a wobbly light like taking a bite. The rock inside and wondering if I chip the tooth, or walking down the street. People staring and realizing. I have no pants on looking down and realizing it’s all a dream.

It feels easier to give up and not try to express myself at all. The algorithm will likely bury my thoughts, anyway, because I didn’t have enough money to pay.