Here I am. Right here. My eyes are approximately 4.5 feet from the floor. They’re shit brown but if you were to actually look closely you’d see they’re made of little galaxy’s and tiny loops of chocolate and gold around my black pupil. Instead you won’t look at me. Everywhere but at me. Around me, past me, through me. I’d love it if you’d notice me. I take the initiative, I look you in the eye, and you divert. Notice me.
And then finally you do, and I forget how to be noticed.
