Little Weirds

by Jenny Slate

I’m stuck here in a cycle and I am getting older but I am not growing up and my heart is getting soft dark spots on it like a fruit that has gone bad or is soft because too many hands have squeezed it but then put it back down not because I am not ready

As the image of myself becomes sharper in my brain and more precious, I feel less afraid that someone else will erase me by denying me love.