Performance/Ovations/Phoebe Waller-bridge

I swear I’m  feminist, I’ve seen fleabag five times. I walk home alone just for fun. I pretend I don’t know I'm funny, pretend I’m not cute. I do everything everyone wants me to do. I’ve read all the right books. I feel sexiest after a sweat. I am unsure of my body when it seems to know exactly what to do. My body is a performance. My saeculum ripens underneath the sun a little more each day, aging into the shape of a seashell or a crushed croissant. I bleed once a month for four days straight. I stay bloated for weeks. I love keeping secrets. I brush my hair with my hands. I run home just for fun. I am the wildest animal in every room.