...

This particular feeling was all too familar. The intention to wait to have a child becoming an accident that I could no longer have one. The intention to only make out with a boy the night before, but accidentally sleeping with him. The intention to move on, but accidentally staying frozen on the platform. "The choices of a naive child" i thought as the trains velocity blew my hair to my lips. my fingers brushing the strands away.
I silently mouthed the words "one-thirty-four" as i I began to walk. The number was my weight and It had been for many years now. I am not fully aware of when this became an aural automated responce to moments of mental boredom or self-ridicul. But it was my catalyst to thoughts of bettering my life, my situation. The number somehow had become my catapult to goal-making.