It’s 8:46 AM, and I’ve just woken up. My curtains are already pulled back for me, but I wake up in an empty bed. With slow heavy steps I make my way to the washroom. I clean myself, I rid myself of toxins and lies. I let myself be engulfed with homogenous liquid. The droplets hit my scalp, and I touch my head.
My hair is too short, I think to my self.
I mover further along my body to my neck, where my collarbones hide far beneath my skin. My arms covered in bumbs, and my tummy that doesn’t feel the need to sit comfortably in my jeans. My thighs that attract more attention then they should, and my feet that are overwhelmingly small compared to the rest of my body. Through my chain of complaints, I am still thankful to be alive. I get out of the shower and dry myself, brushing away the negativity. I then lather my body in creamy layers, I absorb it. Lastly I cascade silk over my body and lay on my white feathers sheets, and I wait to be free.
In my sleep, I dreamt of love for the third time this week. I have love in my life, but how can I differentiate love from magic? If all the stars in the sky aligned Maybe I’d have myself to love.
In my sleep, I dreamt of wanderlust and partnership. How I am slowly altering myself to become one with the world. The short grass is my hair, The sea floor, my collar bones hiding far beneath layers of water. Mountain chains are my bumpy arms. Moss growing out of hand is my tummy, and my attention seeking things are represented by every rose on earth. Lastly my feet just a size too small, are nothing greater than a single star in the sky.
One day I’ll roam the earth, but until then, I’ll keep discovering each and every curvature of my own body.