Fragment 55: Fishbowl

It always begins with a simple idea: What if the next words to come out of my mouth were to flow with ease?

What if I weren’t pouring clumsy thoughts everywhere?

What if, for a second, I carried myself like the rest of the girls?

Because the rest of the girls know exactly what comes next. They know when to lean in for a hug, or when a handshake is more appropriate. They don’t over analyze dialogues and stay up until 4 in the morning worrying about the little things. Their hands don’t tremble before posting pictures, and even if they did, what do hands know anyway when mirrors speak all the right words?

They know how many pictures to take and when to laugh. Not too much, but just an adequate amount that the joke is still funny. Unlike me. Who feels like too much joke, and not enough woman.

I admire the girls that mold this world into a welcome mat. I live my life within a fishbowl. Always wondering who’s looking over my shoulder.

Who’s tapping on the glass.

There never seems to be a place to hide.

Fragment 18: Rightful Owner of This Time Machine

The first house I ever lived in, was painted the color of ashes. Or a setting sun. Any color in between those because I cannot remember just how many colors I knew at four years old. But, my dad rode a motorcycle and the neighbors certainly do remember that. He would always wake up the whole block with the sound of a roaring engine. I don’t recall my house having any windows, maybe, because I would never look for them while I had two palms to look for everything else. I was too involved in asking too many questions. Continue reading “Fragment 18: Rightful Owner of This Time Machine”

Fragment 90: Homeless

When the trees begin to look like silhouettes, I know it is time to go home. I’ve grown up flowing to different versions of this habit because, after all, there is only so much we can see during the day. There is a limited amount of risks we can take while the sun is leaning against window sills waiting for its shift to end. Patiently. And then, after it has done its deed, after the world has watered their plants Continue reading “Fragment 90: Homeless”