AISYA BARBARA CONAPARTE JR., sixteen (AIS): Totured soul. Chaotic Good. Will not quit. But hey.

Interrogation Room #1
Aisya Barbara Conaparte Jr &
Sergeant S. Mom
December 9 // 5:09 p. m.

Consider this: billions of people in the world, each with billions of I ams. I am not a quiet observer,  a champion wallflower. I am a lover of art, the sky, the memory of home. I represent approximately one seven-billionth of the population; these are my momentous multitudes, and that's just for starters.

"It begins with my friends."
"What does?"
"My story." I say.

Only that's not quite right. Let's go back further than that, before we were friends, back when it was just...
Okay got it.

"I've fallen in love something like a thousand times."
"I'm sorry— you said... you've fallen in love?"
"A thousand times," I say, clenching both hands.

I used to think love was bound by numbers: first dates, quick glances, infinite heartbreaks. I used to think numbers outlasted the love itself, surviving in the dark corners of the demolished heart. I used to think love was heavy and hard.

I don't think those things anymore.

"I'm a hoe."

"You're a what?"

.
.
.
.
.

A little late for April fools but hey I updated.