Sometimes I feel like a paper doll.
There's the base: the scrawny girl with pigtails clad in meager underthings with lace trim. she feels utterly naked, exposed.
I have so many outfits.
It seems that the most common one is jeans and a backpack. I have a PID number, like all the students. I have an SAT score, like all the students. I have a major, like all the students. When i wear my jeans and backpack, I am a student.
I also have a flowered dress and easter hat. And black Mary-Janes. It matches that of Colleen's. When i put it on, I look just like her, and it makes me proud. I like standing next to her, the girl who was always taller than me, older than me, wiser than me, blonder than me, more responsible than me. I look up to her, both literally and figuratively. I am a sister.
Oh, and then there's the apron and name-tag. I also put on skid-free shoes and hideous smile. Bread-sliced or bagel-sliced? Decaf or Regular? Bread is my Soul, Passion, and Expertise (so i recite robotically). I am an Associate Worker.
I also have baggy shorts, an ancient t-shirt, and running shoes. I run around the campus. I am mistaken for the Hinton James runner, the Craige North runner, the Parker runner. I am an athlete.
What about the baby-blue t-shirt and ponytail? I scream, I yell, I boo, I succumb to an onslaught of "rah rah rah's." I am one face lost among a crowd of thousands, also sreaming, also yelling, also booing, also rah-rah-rahing. I am a spectator.
I have accesories as well. A shopping basket and impatient stance. waiting and waiting and druminng my fingers. Waiting and drumming. Drumming, drumming, sighing. Waiting. I am a consumer.
My favorite used to be the yellow sundress. I don't wear shoes, I am barefoot. Lost to wonder and incrdulity. I know little, I dream big. I am a Youth.
Some of these outfits marginalize me.
I feel smudged.
Some of these outfits consume me.
I feel intellectual.
Some of these outfits alievate me.
I feel loved.
And a lot of the times I don't know which to wear, and i don't like to wear any. I just want to be me.
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1 comment:
I think I can understand what you say...
Wanting to be myself has always been my desire...
We have so many outfits. And so many masks.
I like your style.
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