the thing about being twenty-four
is that everyone’s childhood dog dies
you start to repeat your stories;
you sound like your mom
you feel so grateful for your mom you can’t stand it
your boyfriend has a beard
and the people who used to have boyfriends become brave enough to have girlfriends
and you realize you’ve never been brave
you just didn’t know how pain worked yet;
you didn’t understand the mechanics
you wonder where your bullies are now?
you come to terms with your face
you don’t come to terms with your dad
you repeat your stories of your mom and your dad and your bullies and the terrible things you thought about your face to the people you fall in love with
you learn the mechanics of pain through love
and you miss your dog
and all of the other dogs.