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Am I flawed? Flawed? That's me
I'm short a few gigabytes
I short circuit sometimes
Sometimes I need to reboot
Perfection wasn't me at all
Study? Does not compute
Act feminine? Does not compute
Honor student? Does not compute
Create? Thousands files found
That's all I was programmed to do
Meant for painting with star dust
Meant for drawing with the wind
Meant for crafting with clouds
I'm flawed. So are my dreams
But I'll reach the moon faster
than someone out to own it
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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