I never moved past the point of social vulnerability. People say I still casts my tired eyes so hollow in the sockets of my yellowed bones. Am I really that hollow?
Mum said I never stopped procrastinating. I went down that determination path once or twice I recall in my records. Mum never noticed me slamming the backdoor?
Do changes all meant to be vibrant and noticeable? I love nuances but no one likes small unknown gentle brushes with nameless stranger on train station. I knew.
