Letters to Strangers

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I have this strange disease.
I like to draw on everything. Or write. I carry a pen on me at all times - a thin sharpies, a gel g2, a white-out pen. I write in steam, I write in water dripping down mirrors or windows. I devise strange stories and plans in sand or dirt or snow. Some day you will wake up with a dinosaur eating a lovebird, or an entire monologue written entirely with my left pointer finger and acrylic paint on your ceiling.

I have a mental disorder.
I love to break out in random song, even when my throat is too thrashed to where I sound like I'm a squeaking bird, or a rat that just got stepped on. I like The Beatles and Metric and Modest Mouse and The Darkness, especially when I'm crying in the bathroom, or when I'm in procrastinating on a black-and-white project and I feel like croaking with Jonnybaby and spilling my tea all over the keyboards.

I'm a little weird.
I absolutely cannot stand a life where I couldn't break out in random dance. Whether it's inappropriate with MotherCamby and causes the administration to flinch because two women are bouncing against each other in the hallway, or slam-dancing with Ivy, or swinging Rainboy around and around and around until one of us falls or hits our head or we both fall down laughing and we can't breathe and we're choking from laughter and people are tripping over us in the halls and giving is strange looks because we are very obviously hyperventilating. I love breaking out with Jump in the line! Rock your body in time! (Okay! I believe you!) and making Frese turn red from holding his breath.

I'm not exactly normal.
I laugh when people accidentally grope me. So much that I cry and I fall against walls because they're embarrassed.

I'm a little bit dangerous.
I love to drive fast around corners. I like standing on ledges and seeing how fast I get vertigo. I like jumping too high and being inexperienced and lying laughing in pain.

I love the smell of onions.
I love they way they burn my eyes.
I love reading, and writing, and cleaning.
I love running.

I love finger-painting. I love yelling at my professors. I like feeling pretty.I love the smell of a new book. I love the smell of an old book. I love lace, and cars, and cameras. I love birds and dirt and ice.

I love the little things in life.