{"id":19313,"date":"2024-04-04T06:50:07","date_gmt":"2024-04-04T10:50:07","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/?p=19313"},"modified":"2024-04-04T06:51:04","modified_gmt":"2024-04-04T10:51:04","slug":"the-miniature-man","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/the-miniature-man\/","title":{"rendered":"The Miniature Man"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>There\u2019s a miniature man in my tweets. Same hair, same eyes as me. Except the hair isn\u2019t receding. And the eyes sparkle like they all do before the world breaks them. Stay down, I say. My tweets are his last hiding place.<\/p>\n<p>His days are numbered.<\/p>\n<p>There\u2019s a miniature man in my tweets. Sometimes, I let him out, around 3 AM. He stares off like you do after a wind surprises the skin of your neck and takes your soul with it. Okay, that\u2019s enough, I say. Deleting the tweet. You fucking idiot, I say, to no one. But perhaps it\u2019s the world I\u2019m speaking to?<\/p>\n<p>There\u2019s a miniature man in my tweets. I don\u2019t want him seen. Most times, though, I forget he\u2019s there. I\u2019m so busy, convincing people I\u2019ve grown up, that I\u2019m successful. His days are numbered.<\/p>\n<p>I know, because the lies I even believe myself.<\/p>\n<p>Once a year, around the holidays, it becomes too much. I crawl in my tweet, cradle my miniature man like my mom used to me. I miss you, I\u2019ll say. Touching my heart, where I once kept him. He\u2019ll sob. Can I come back he\u2019ll ask. But each year it sounds less like a question.<\/p>\n<p>He\u2019s so beautiful. And it\u2019s so sad. Anyone would want to consider.<\/p>\n<p>But I\u2019m not a man who has time to consider.<\/p>\n<p>I never let him back.<\/p>\n<p>Do you?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Once a year, around the holidays, it becomes too much. I crawl in my tweet, cradle my miniature man like my mom used to me. I miss you, I\u2019ll say.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":19905,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[115,3368,3370,3369],"class_list":["post-19313","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-growing-up","tag-miniature","tag-sadness-2","tag-tweets","writer-tyler-dempsey"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19313","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19313"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19313\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19904,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19313\/revisions\/19904"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/19905"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19313"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19313"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19313"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}