June 11, 2017


KB eyeball as of June 11, 2017

Weird. I know.

I'm trying to love myself. We are supposed to do that aren't we? Love ourselves, find peace, love our skin, our inner everything. We are inherently taught that loving ourself is the one aim.

Well guess what! 

It's hard. So I'm doing it one little bit at a time.

I don't know when my eyes turned green. I thought they were blue forever? And I listed them as blue on my Driver's License? One day I woke up and they were what the Internet calls "hazel." I guess a blend of greens and yellows and What the Fucks and flecks of Go Fuck Yourself. 

I started loving these eyes.

Once, Jon, when we were "courting," said, "Your eyes are literally two colors right now: one is blue, and one is green." 

C'est la vie.

So I got really into the idea of my eye color. And I started wondering if I am an alien.

I may be an alien based on my eye color and we can just define and settle as such.

But the other reason I am enamored with myself?

My handwriting.

It's almost like a crave that I have: I need, I desire...to write with a pen. 

I don't even need content.

Give me words, I just want to see my handwriting. 

I am a fucked up soul, but a surprisingly cute and happy one.