There is no straining for that one last look, no time suspended in the final unblinking stare. You don’t stay with me until I am just another city glow fading in to night.
I think that maybe my childhood never really ended, but I’ve got the whole world fooled. They pay me to work, they let me sign a lease, smoke cigarettes, cuss freely, vote. No one knows that I’m just a little girl in big girl’s clothing.
You’re on his bed. You don’t know why. Your hands are pinned down. You don’t know why. Your legs are spread. You don’t know why. He’s on top of you, and you know exactly why.
In times of extreme duress, you may find it helpful to think in the third person. Imagine yourself as being in a story; not a story being written by you, but a story being written by another.