fate
I think of girlhood. Dreams of a distant future glide over my eyelids. I think of measuring tapes, and the only thing I associate with them is drapes of fabric waiting to be cut and split. I think of Paris. across the street there laid the fashion house, blueprints of dresses and glamour and artistry tapered to the walls of ivory. I think of sexless mannequins bearing the weight of tiaras. I think of bleaching my hair a shade of buttercream.
Does it suit me? Is it for me? Is it meant for me?
I think of boyhood. It slips through the pillars of my fingers like crumbling sand. I taste it on the tip of my tongue. I hunch my back when I stand, I wear clothing that makes me look alot bigger than I really am. I tested it out. I go by a different name. Something unfamiliar and yet found in every facet of my life. I think of a face meant to be mine but made more of fragments of my father.
I think of venom. I don't recognize myself in the mirror sometimes. I wanted to be pretty. I am now, aren’t I? And yet, I am nowhere near pretty enough. I know what I want but I don’t know how to get what I want. I think of everything I have ever wanted as I sit idly by the desk. I think of everything I have lost as I lay awake by the flickering lamp. The world is turning despite despite despite. I’m off my rhythm and I don’t want to be in the race anymore.
But the world doesn’t work that way. I want it to be. I am stagnant. I am stuck. I am a deer caught in the headlights, waiting for the shrill shriek of the break and the resounding thud of my body on the highway. It never comes. I keep hoping. I keep worrying. I weep as I stand. I weep as I wait.