I'm interested in you. What are you wearing? Are you attracted to the phrase 'foul language'? As much as I am? Have you ever seen the cartoon Spartacus? This would be the only validation I'd need. Like how as a child I told myself something happened, but couldn't truly be sure until a certain number of days had passed, and then when they had I couldn't really tell if they'd passed or if it had all happened in my mind. So I'd say, okay. Seven days from this moment, standing here next to the gumball machine in Wal-Mart. Each day is a hash mark, mark it. But I'd always forget.
Today at work my co-worker said, oh, okay. Now we know everything Lindsay says is a lie. What a relief! I thought. I mean, isn't it obvious? I always think to myself.
(But my nickname at work is "Pure." Hello, Pure. How are you doing, Pure? Don't you remember? She's Pure.)
The other day I asked Ben if he thought I was self-aware. Of course, he said.
My worst fear is to be one of those people staring off into space on the train, unaware. So I pretend to be one of those people and I try to always be aware of other people looking at me assuming I'm staring off into space.
This one girl once told me she could see right through people. I asked her to tell me what she saw. Oh, Lindsay, she said, you're too easy.
My dad told me I'm the most devious of them all. But I never forget his birthday.
And you. Oh my little bird in the cage. I can still feel my feet burning underneath me, sitting on them at 4 in the morning, watching Spartacus alone. My shoulders are bare. I am Spartacus.
