July 21, 2011
My name is Eileen. In the morning I fish for butterflies off the side of the moon and at night I sleep in my lake of black ink. My heart is always falling out of my chest, so I tie it to my skin with paper chains of forgotten words. But it’s not very safe there, as people often take pieces of it whenever they like, so it’s full of holes and it’s always bleeding. I’m best friends with the sprite that lives in the willow tree, and my favorite place to sit is by the broken well over the hill that is filled with my tears and stolen secrets. I like to whisper Latin to the passing robins, and sometimes I throw messages in bottles to the sky for those balloons that people always let go of. I write backwards and I’m afraid of people, and I collect those fortunes from fortune cookies in scrapbooks. Sometimes my family thinks I’m crazy, but that’s only because they’ve never been to my world.

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