yeah

i used to be the girl scrabbling for purchase on a rockface smeared with-

but no, perhaps i was the embarassing whimper from the back of the room. you know, the girl that everyone turns to look at when they know they shouldn't 'cos her nose is running and she hasn't got a tissue and no one knows what the hell's wrong anyway

stop it, don't embarass her

or, nah, maybe the lilac stripe in the guest bedroom, the blue tiling in the downstairs bathroom, the pot plant in the hall way; drooping and forlorn, remembered only when its gasping cries for water, my chlorophyll for just a little muddy water become a little too cutting

or maybe i was just a whiny little sonofabitch, yeah?