Lately, I feel like I’m reducing myself to the smallest parts of myself. I chip off tastes of me in broadcasts of my taste. I’m externalized in emails and shared cigarettes. I become my grossest flaws: a lone pimple on my back, my minor credit card debt, my inability to say “I love you” to those I do. I am jealous of everyone who gets to see me from the outside, as they seem to like me fine, even love, they say, and I loathe most of what I imagine myself to be.

I’m the only lifeguard at this apartment complex pool and I’m here every day all day and I got to know this 12 year old girl, Ashlyn, and she has really bad anxiety and depression and we talk about stuff. Anyway, her grandma recently told me she went to the hospital because she had a really bad nervous breakdown so I made her this lil book and maybe the internet can use it too.

Ashlyn’s a really great person. She brings me loaded baked potatoes and bakes brownies and all sorts of stuff all the time and gives them to her neighbors and she cares so much about people. I love kids a lot.