what can i write about myself that would convince you that it is i and not someone else?

don't (christian) pray in my school, and i won't (independently) think in your church.

the faucet drips steadily replacing the clock on the wall and the weight on my wrist as it gauges the increments of time that for now flows down the drain. a drain filled with hair, shavings, dirt, soap suds, and grease. we lose a part of ourselves daily, sequentially. a once us trapped in a drain at home, the gym, or somewhere, anywhere. you look in the mirror concentrating on the pieces of your lost self, a puzzle reflecting back at you. your smile now seemingly absent, your eyes becoming less full, less hopeful. we were once of our father, then for a time our mother. until we have been freed into this unsettling, disturbing, and often times hostile world. where we find ourselves ever so alone. always in this struggle to be apart of something again. like the empty memory that trails us to our father, ou