about last night

it’s hard when people only like you because they say they think you’re pretty

it’s harder when you don’t believe them because you hate your own body

so maybe they just like you because you there and willing

i can feel you on my skin but i can’t feel a damn thing

i wish i could say my mind was in the moment

i wish i could say i’ve even felt something being touched other than apathy

and bits of tired boredom

i wish i could say i didn’t cry on the floor 20 min before i made it to the party

i wish i could say i didn’t laugh at your jokes because i wanted you to like you

i think you are kind of funny

but i don’t know that you’ve ever really seen me in all my smudged glory

and i don’t know that you like to hear me talk

it’s not a walk of shame if you can’t feel anything

it’s not the end of the world if i wasn’t in your orbit in the first place

your clothing is in my washer and i’ll bring it back

it’ll smell like me and i don’t think you’ll notice (or care)

but that’s okay

i hope your friends thought i was cool

i hope they ask about me later

i hope they think i’m pretty and don’t notice how out of place i was in my own body or on your couch

i hope this is always an okay at best memory and that you don’t damage it for me

i hope you like the scent of my laundry detergent

even if you don’t like me