Ben Bonkoske

If I fell, would you catch me? I should know how to stand on my own two feet by now. A part of me might prefer to just break my neck. I broke my neck trying to convince you I was a catch. Love is abusive. It just feels like a bully that won’t give me my lunch money. I am defenseless to its peril. I can’t tell if I’m getting more rigid or careless. If we are talking in a matter of one week, I am a rubber band, hours, an icicle, a year, a firm butt. It really isn’t so fun being beautiful with no one to share it with, so how do you think this mutt feels? If I can go one day without a hundred oreos maybe I will have grown a good inch in containment. Is life just one long race that doesn’t have a winner? So many amazing people and stories and I think I’m better than every one of them writing in a concrete basement. If you can’t tell, I’m very insecure. I’m also a self-diagnosed narcissist even though I am the most sentimental and occasionally generous person who is broke. Without the rush of hitting the reset button under a lukewarm waterfall, I am so much less fun company. Thank me later I said. Imagine the love letters I would write these days. I might be too occupied with my own life to bring someone into it, but hopefully, it wouldn’t be the shallow “i love yous” that infected my stupid youth. I saw a picture of me on drugs in my first year of college. I was a little tooth pick. Center of attention. It’s all drugs. Television. Music. Reading is the hardest drug. I don’t pass out from fatigue during my days anymore. Good health is hell. A runner’s high. It would be a nasty come down.