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24 F Oakland, CA

My Details

Last Online
Online now!
Native American, Hispanic / Latin, White
5′ 7″ (1.70m)
Body Type
Mostly vegetarian
Graduated from university
Relationship Status
Seeing Someone
Relationship Type
Doesn’t want kids
Likes dogs and likes cats

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My self-summary
I have never not enjoyed the taste of pretty words.
What I’m doing with my life
I’ve made a cursory list of the colors that appear in three places: the veins visible just between the flesh and the bone of your hip, your lower lip, and your right eye; thus shades of blue, red, and brown respectively.
I’m really good at
don’t be obsessed with everything so pretty
it’s makes you ugly
it means I can’t even see you
and I imagine an ugly face
or something scary
like a tall cloaked demon in the hall
and I get paralyzed by the bathroom door
then I have to think of something mundane
or your face when you’re not trying to show me how pretty it is
I have to think of your ancestors
and all the genes that led to you
now I’m thinking of something scientific… about your face
about how your eyeballs work
about how your bones support what makes you familiar to me
it intersects with art
you evolved with a deep s curve for an upper lip
and I wonder how it serves you
thank god for your eye lashes
guarding amber canyons
curving to the aperture
I dive right in
The first things people usually notice about me
She was the same texture I had been at that age, like velvety smooth and supple dew. She was the same beyond-her-years introspective girl who fell in love with every Mister instructing her in the ways of lyrical prose and expansive poetics or conveying that he could. She was happily exhausted by her view of those men live streaming her consciousness and draping their eyes about her curving frame. She responded with lips and fingertips all pulsing toward any small wet opening. The chemistry condensed between she and them and hung like a cloud that skirted around her bare midriff, both curious and confusing, cold and yet it tickled her to warmth.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food
him: doesn’t it hurt your knees to sit that way?
she: why do you ask questions with such obvious answers?
him: why do you?
she: it is not obvious to me why you do which is why I asked, I don’t understand it.
him: well I haven’t a clue whether or not your knees hurt.
she: do you think I would continue to sit like this if it hurt?
him: perhaps.
she: don’t be difficult.
him: okay, forget I asked it
she: I already have.
him: doesn’t it hurt your soul to be so brash?
she: … no, my soul is soothed by it.
him: okay devil… be brash then, I will still kiss you.
she: kiss me then.
The six things I could never do without
heaven’s right over there, wanna see?
oh shit, wait, I left the key on my dresser
well, anyway… you’d love it
god is a real class act
I know this totally fucks with your ideas but god is a girl
and she doesn’t care if you curse
I think it only matters that you have good intentions
'cause I was feeling real shitty one day about - well, actually about losing that damn key
and I went up to god and I was just like… it’s been a week, I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find the key you gave me
god just looked at me for a long while and I felt her sifting through the file cabinet of my soul
then she was just like “go home”
and so I did, totally defeated… but when I got home the key was in an envelope on my front porch
there was a note inside that read “you’re a good boy, josh”
she knew, ya know… she totally knew
heaven’s rad man
I spend a lot of time thinking about
it took five years of cross-country enchantment
in little white boxes
in fuzzy motion pictures
in muted wire connections
to hypnotize me
On a typical Friday night I am
I tried to eat two grape tomatoes before sleeping but one rolled away before I could. I know I’m going to step on it later and I don’t clean like my mother. I don’t own Resolve or a carpet scrubber. Also, I’m wearing my old boyfriend’s socks and a shirt of his. I told him and then sent him a picture.

Now it’s raining. I’ve listened to the same five Shin’s songs over and over tonight: sea legs, phantom limb, a comet appears, red rabbits, australia.

I can’t decide where I want my head tonight… at the foot or at the head. If I don’t sleep with a body pillow up against me then my bones will become unhinged, I’m convinced.

I’ve browsed in incognito mode, I’ve washed my hands and still sleep evades me. Though, I never really try. I have only myself and my various addictions to blame.

Finally, I can’t decide whether loneliness is glamorous or not and my computer won’t let me scroll.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit
My chin shakes and my eyes loll and my face floods with tears. I inhale too deeply and too fast. I bite my lip and hold it in and squeeze my eyes shut. The pressure rises in my brain and an empty pit forms in my stomach. My body writhes and pushes into the bed in a concaved arch. The tears fall down my nose, my cheeks, past my earlobes sometimes. The salt reaches my lips and then soaks my hair and collects between my breasts. The feeling subsides, I breathe… and then it reemerges and I cry and when I can finally see, I write.
I’m looking for
  • Everybody
  • Ages 18–60
  • Located anywhere
  • For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating, casual sex
You should message me if
You like when old people are around, when they shake their heads at incoherent bullshit from minor versions of themselves caught in the haunting appetite of a world gone sour. Their memories erased by the conglomerate’s way of making things easy… easy to clean and sanitized emotions boiling down to love and hate. The rules to the game are posted in the dorm room halls and on the front face of the lecturn. They say not to speak out of turn, except on the phone. A blip in the system, an electric hum to distract your paranoid brother so he speaks when you speak and then you’re in eye-brow raised silence for just short of eternity. Now you’re afraid to talk on the phone and less afraid to grown distant from your family. Move to New York and communicate with emoji strings to all the friends you made, but your cousins don’t use emoji’s and they text in aol-era slang so you don’t bother keeping their numbers when you factory-reset your phone. Maybe tomorrow you’ll slip in the shower and your concussion will reveal who really likes you or just wants to fuck you and your aunt will text her concern and you’ll say, “Thank you. Who is this? [Emoji , need decode plugin]."