2011-12-18 / 11:22 p.m.

You tell me that I'm as cute as a button and you hand me a brown paper bag and you look at me funnily, and I can't quite tell what it means and you whisper that you've always told me you'd get me a donkey, so I have a little peek and it's just like it was last year, all soft toys and pretending you don't care about me. I pretend too, but I don't think I'm as good at it. I sit on my bed and I do my best to distinguish your smell from the tiny animal fabrics, and it works for a few days, and then it goes away. I can't remember your face, and you haven't called. I'm at a loss again.