That's Not How You Spell My Name

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When someone says, "tell me about yourself", they actually mean, "tell me your name and something that makes you important". They do not care to know that I put down a book and immediately start another, or how I dream of summer in the winter and winter in the summer. They do not care to know that when I was 5 I fell asleep on my mothers shoulder and when I'm scared or tired I can still smell her perfume. When someone says, "tell me something random about yourself", they mean "are you a virgin?", "will you sleep with me?" They do not want to know that my socks are mismatched and I wish I knew someone who needed a piece of my liver, so I could have a good deed on my life resume. They do not care to know that I sleep with the windows open and all the lights off. They do not care to know that I hang onto a handful of people and stories and words at all times so I might have someone to see and something to say. They do not care that my hair is blonde in the summer and brown in the winter. They say "tell me about yourself", but they mean "prove to me you're important enough to talk to me." And more often than not, I do not make the cut, because I cry at weddings and funerals and ask too many questions and take up too much time with my thoughts. I wonder if I'll have someone who will listen when I tell them sometimes words ring in my ears until I can't think unless it's of that one ringing word or that I sleep better in cars than beds and better with another person than alone. I wonder what boys think of their mothers and grandmothers and I wonder why, why, why. I wonder until I fall asleep and wake up just to wonder some more, and wish I had someone to tell my wonders to. 
 

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