I see her
Across the busy street, eyes so big
Waiting for an open window to dash toward me
I don’t know her, I’ve only just seen her
Just like everyone else on my side of the street
It’s hard to miss the huge red sign on her blue shirt
It’s hard to look at anything else but her
Prancing about in sneakers that’s harder to miss
She sees a ten inch space between a bike and a car
And sprints almost gracefully but not entirely
She laughs at how close she was to a possible pile up
Brushes off her previous fear of crowded places
Pulls her hoodie tighter around herself
She’s begun walking toward a little burger shack, familiar
‘My girl’ loves burgers, I think watching her devour her meal
She orders a bottle of water, gulps that down in three sips
She’s on her way again.
I shouldn’t follow. Oh I must. My work could wait
I’d miss this girl if I turned around
So I did.
While a sea of people quickly closed in on me
My eyes picked her out buying a local newspaper
Digging through her jean pocket for change
The bottle of water secured under her chin
So normal and yet I need to know
I need to know this girl.
She walks into a mirrored building, next
That was my cue, I could leave. I could.
I followed her in, familiarity hasn’t hit me yet
The guard salutes me, another thing I failed to piece together
The girl behind the counter that I always smiled at
Greeted me, another memory
I see the blue shirt, white sneaker girl again,
Turning the last corner, taking a cautious look behind her
I might’ve met her eye, I might’ve
I follow her into an open hallway,
Buzzing with people, a crowd of heads bouncing about
I lost the brunette I was looking for
In what felt like an ocean of faces,
I lost the one I had set out to find
I push past the familiar masks of those around me
Set my tiny bottle of water, the local newspaper
And let out a long sigh of disheartenment.
I will find this girl in the blue shirt and white sneakers
If that’s the last thing I do, I think silently
“White shoes, risky”, an all too familiar face popped his head in
Almost physically snapping me out of my trance
“Gotta do it for the feel”, I reply, winking at him
“I like the superman shirt, though”
“I think blue’s my color. Do want to get a burger?”, I ask, smiling.
So fun fact, I’m psychic. I predicted my two week hiatus. (I find that fancy names to describe your laziness reduces the shitty feeling that always ensues.) In my defense, I keep it real. Honest to the bone. You can always take my word.
Anyway, I’ve never found the dire need to ever even understand what people mean when they say ‘I need to find myself’. Thinking about it, it’s wonked that anyone that says THAT is standing there, in their own body, controlling their own mind and actions, and STILL doesn’t know who they are. I don’t think I’m all too keen on figuring out how that works just as yet because who’s EIGHTEEN AND DOESN’T CARE?! Although, no lie, it’s crossed my mind. I’ve sucked it up to people that didn’t deserve to have their arses kissed, put my opinions away because of the fear of being judged and thrown my own inner, (WISE) self to the dogs because I figured if I didn’t care about what I said to myself, why would anyone else? Over time, precisely over half an hour, I realized, I’ve fueled my anxiety to levels I cannot even describe to you all because of the fear of being judged that began growing when I was not all that everyone else seemed to be. People could be perfect but ME?! HO NO! I can’t be perfect. Normal humans aren’t perfect. Normal human implied me and the rest of the world were unicorns that shat glazed donuts. So there, while I was beating myself up about how I wish my skin was fairer, or how I wish my love handles would disappear or how I wish I had a boyfriend I could show off and order around, somewhere in between all those, I sculpted myself into a marble version of someone who I didn’t have to be. Marble is very pretty, not going to lie but it has nothing on me or you. So over the years that I’ve been ‘jello’ and squeezed myself to fit close to impossible standards that was never even set by me to begin with, I lost originality. (And my baby fat. Just FYI.) SO, I did. I lost ‘myself’. And although I still do NOT understand how ‘I need to find myself’ works, I know it’s a real thing. Losing yourself is an actual thing. As long as I’m a person, whoever the heck i turned out to be, I’m good. (I hope.) I haven’t begun soul searching just as yet because change is a thing I hate, but if you have, all props to you! This was just to say, THERE ARE NO UNICORNS THAT SHIT GLAZED DONUTS ANYWHERE. THERE NEVER WAS! (Sorry but I had to break it to you.) But you have a great day being you!
My last post was BURSTING A BUBBLE
YOU SHOULD FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM FOR THE HECK OF IT.
Love, laughter and bouncy balls,