Bloom.

Popular

Holy shit, I am popular.
Do you have any idea how fucking popular I am?
Do you have any idea of who I am?

I am so popular at my university,
that the barista knows me by name.
My lecturers know me by name.
The grounds men know me by name.
The workmen fixing the medical building know me by,
"Hey, sugar!"

I walk into work,
the customers know me too!
Starting at "Shannon-Large-Ham-And-Cheese" and ending at "Flirty-Old-Lesbian-Ronnie",
They all know me by name.

In high-school I was "opinionated",
"bossy",
"getting-shit-done-and-taking-no-prisoners".

In university I am "hard working",
"ambitious",
"likeable".

But I disagree.
I guess I am "like" - "able" to re-invent myself.
I am ambitious to be someone new.
I am working hard to erase myself.

I am working hard to not be myself.

But fuck that, for the first time, I am popular!

Who cares if I'm still overworking myself.
Who cares if I ruminate on all of my failures.
Who cares if I struggle to love others.
Who cares if I speak well, act well, sing well, look well,
Who cares if I am,
well.

I mean, sometimes I get sad for no reason.
But you have friends!
Sometimes the reason I'm sad is because I have friends.
But they love you!
On the outside.
But they adore you!
On the outside.
They see you every day!
They have to.
But he slept with you!
He hurt me.

Life is going so well.

I'm finally making friends.
I'm finally becoming popular.

I'm happy.
I'm popular.
I'm happy.
I'm popular.
I'm happy.
I'm popular.

I'm...