do you remember being phone?

you made some of your first friends.

you were 12 and you'd flirt with grown men on the internet to fill the gaping chasm the man left empty within you. you were so lucky that kik was for preps and normies.

you learned yourself for the first time.

late at night — you knew you were breaking the rules — you saw the tumblr pages, the colorful flags and lists shining a spotlight across your face as they blurred past under your desperate, knowledge-hungry fingertips. maybe someone else could explain your own condition to you. maybe someone else could fix it.

you were broken up with for the first time.

don't you remember? it was 6 in the morning and they still made you go to school. but hey, it got better. you didn't even cry. you only cried after she touched you. you didn't say yes, but you hate yourself for not knowing how to pronounce "no," the word foriegn on your soft tongue.

you remember what your ex said? you're a selfish manipulative asshole. that's what the man says too. you're no better than him.

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.