annalynne doesn't wonder why she moved to new york, it isn't the typical day that she lets her mind stray to topics so deep and complicated. no, it's never annalynne that asks herself that question; instead, it's one of her friends from back in denver or it's her brother. it does leave a lingering taste of uncertainty against the back of her tongue. usually it leaves her in an equally bad mood, too. her medication can't even dull the bad mood on days when she's particularly salty.

most hours awake are spent at work, which is entertaining and distracting enough, but the times before she falls asleep are the loneliest. the time when her mind is tasked with winding down. all of her life she's felt out of place, like a square in a room of circles, like the black sheep of the herd. growing up in one of the three poorest neighborhoods in denver, never finding solace in her home and definitely not among her peers, annalynne felt caged by the time she reached her adult years.

with adulthood brought the cage door swinging open and just like a bird without hesitation, she flew out into the wild without thinking. in bed at night, though, annalynne feels the weight of her decisions. the sinking pressure on her chest that she isn't sure if she has real friends. friends that would rescue her if she needed it or hold her while she cried. she pretends the world isn't lonely. she pretends that being intelligent, progressing toward completing a goal, or being able to hold a solid conversation are what make life worth living.

she never says what she thinks.
please like me.
please accept me.
just love me.