So She Thought
She lived in a shoe-box thinking it a mansion. In her head, she dreamed of being someone else, of being blue-eyed blonde, stick thin and muscly.
Never mind her thick legs. Ignore this frizz like pineapple hair. She promised to erase her wilderness, her half-masked ambition, her enthusiasm. Instead, she would trade it in for a calm, cool, collected caricature to a charismatic clever creature. Shrewd and nonchalant, she would circle those goals, day after day.
Her mind was wrong, but it was made up.
But, she spent her time wishing to be different. Only to realize that she is wasting her glory days gorging and gawking at other brains, other dreams, other beings.
Perhaps, it is less about minding the gaps between her and the rest. More, it is more about feeling the cloth she is working with. Touching the seams and zippers, soothing velvet texture. Throwing it back and jumping off roof tops, cape bellowing behind.
“These are the glory days,” she would whisper to the stars.