My Capriciousness IV

Sometimes I like to imagine that you love me, but I accept you only want me for my biscuits.
An ambient street presence, I’m fairly convinced that I traverse this world in a bulletproof translucent hamster ball.
I feel completely deleted by the sun.
You move in circles, I move in quadrilaterals.
Floundering in attempts at being grown up, for now I am not.

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