confessions i have started to become more comfortable with undressing— which can be done with more than just garments, such as when i tell relative strangers about my neurotic mother or about times when i’ve slept with people who didn’t care, or that one month when i snuck into the movie theater 17 times this isn’t a cry for help— it is merely the freedom of escaping a shell i built around myself and don’t you know how it feels to sit there for so long? the fumes get to you after a while— so everyone becomes the priest in my confessional, i strip eagerly.
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