Always/Never, Neither/Both

I can’t tell whether you think I’m broken or dangerous. You should know that it’s neither.

You should know that, yes, I enjoy being alone, but no, I haven’t succumbed to a life of complete solitude.

Yes, I was sick. Yes, I’m better. No, I’m not suicidal.

I always keep a knife on me. Self defense is a good enough reason.

I still always eat the greenest food last, but hey, the garbage disposal finally eats less than I do.

I never check the time when I stumble to bed at night, but you can’t accuse me of welcoming the insomnia anymore.

I stopped going to the shrink. You can’t label me certified crazy.

I jumped because I wanted to fall, not because I wanted to fly.

Of course I love to laugh, and no, you aren’t funny.

You should know that hurts to run away, and that it hurts to do absolutely everything else, too.

I keep in my mind my safety, but the seatbelt burns my collarbone.

I never roll through stop signs, though. I like the way the brakes squeeze like my heart stops.

I never sit at a table for two, but the stools at the bar hardly count as company.

I always paint my toenails a happy color. Yellow. Red. Purple.  The cool blue can’t show through that way.

The scars on my arms don’t read like a scroll, but rather a map I never needed.

Lying in wait  makes me feel like a jungle cat instead of a field mouse for once.

I watch your eyes widen, but I don’t mention the coolness in your tone or the utter disgust on your hands after you’ve touched me.

I can’t tell whether you think I’m broken or dangerous. You should know that it’s both.

You look at me like I lost my spark, but no, I just needed to smell the smoke.

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