The Mosh Pit Will Reveal All The

Bruises Mapped My Body From Bumping Into Tables And Tripping Over Curbs While Walking With A Book In My Hand, My Eyes Focused On The Pages Instead Of The Live Space Around Me.

We All Just Took The Bookstore At Its Word, Because If You Couldn't Trust A Bookstore, What Could You Trust?

The Handwriting Was A Girl’s. I Mean, You Can Tell. That Enchanted Cursive.

Therefore. Ergo. Erg. Argh. Ugh.

Perhaps It's Not That I'm Frigid-- It's That Once I Decide I Like A Guy, I Turn Into A Raging Idiot, Unfit For Public Appearances.