Eat Me, Drink Me, Love Me

God doesn’t want me to have friends, he just wants me to have people who keep me at a safe distance or have me in small samplings.

I’m a normal, good person. It’s frustrating to feel like a character in other people’s lives. It brings out the social issues that I’ve had since I was in first grade. When I’m trying to interact with people, my braincells pulsate impatiently and I’m back in first grade again. The fear of feeling rejected brings out the hypomania in a heartbeat, and I don’t even notice the transition from introvert to exhibitionist. I become a bubbly little kid who won’t let you even think about getting out that ten foot pole. EAT ME, DRINK ME, LOVE ME. I’m a demanding, grotesque, juice-covered little kid.

I’m 22 years old, introverted, extroverted, shy, bold, thoughtful, offensive, depressed, hyper, delusive, genuine, and, above all, frustrated.

She cried, “Laura,” up the garden,
“Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeez’d from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men.”

Christina Rossetti, “Goblin Market”

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