They were my dreams. But they weren’t mine. I learned them from the pages of a magazine or a comic book.
The show on the box told me how to believe, what to wear, how to react.
A version of a version.
I loved the box and it loved me back until it didn’t. It broke one day. The cruelty of its failure slashed my wrists. The cuts distal to proximal. I’m not a faker. Medial to lateral cuts are faker cuts.