TERRI RODRIGUEZ

That I post things:

“twenty questions.

something i am. something you aren’t. something i thought i needed, but i don’t.

animal, vegetable, or mineral?
animal.
is it in this room?
no.
has it ever been in this room?
yes.
is it quiet?
at times.
at times meaning it can be loud?
yes.
is it soft?
on the inside.
does it bite?
not with teeth.
what do you mean?
that isn’t a question about the object.
it’s a question. answer it.
i said it doesn’t bite with teeth, but it has bite. it hurts. leaves a mark.
did it leave a mark on you?
we’re getting off topic. these aren’t questions for the game. what the fuck?
call them for the game. i think we’re getting somewhere here.
you’re not getting anywhere.
did it leave a mark on you? count that for two if you want.
it left a mark but it’s fading.
what does it smell like?
earth. and sweat. and last night’s booze.
did you cheat?
what the fuck do you mean, did i cheat?
i think you changed what your object was in the middle of this game.
you can think whatever you want.
so you did?
i’m counting that as a question.
that’s fine. answer it.
no.
you’re lying.
so what if i am?
where can you find this thing?
here and there. more there than here.
so it was here, with you, and then it left?
i guess you can say that.
does it matter to you, that it isn’t here anymore?
i thought it did. i thought i’d hurt more. i thought i’d fight for it. i thought it’d break my heart. i thought i’d want it to. i thought it’d be here for a little while longer i…
i think we should play another game.
why?
because i’m out of questions.
bullshit.
no, really. i know what the object is.
tell me, then. if you know so fucking much.
i don’t need to tell you what it is.
do it. just do it.

it’s me.

you can’t play twenty questions with yourself, or your ability to love because the game will never end the way you think it will. “