How long has it been since
you looked in the mirror and you saw a girl and not a woman
since you figured you should’ve been born with thick red hair, an epitome of your free spirit
since you last hurt someone because you can
because you didn’t want yourself hurt
It’s some sort of slope I’m on, and I am climbing steadily, hurriedly, I am rushing toward the top, even though I’m tired, even though I don’t wanna walk anymore
I climb and feel my lungs vigorously fill with oxygen and breathe and hush and inhale and exhale and end.
A dog locked up in a garage is wailing and I feel just like it – forgotten and lost, groping around for directions that no one bothered to give.
I walk past a hairdresser’s and the sign on the window shop says it’s half the price for pensioners. And it really bugs me – when do we get so old that we are not women and men anymore but just a category, a name, a file, a sound or even worse, a gap to fill the budget, a break to smoke your cigarette in, a dead time, a burden, a failure.
I feel like nothing, I only feel the numbness and the hunger that just never leave.
I don’t love anyone, I don’t care for anyone and I realize my sole need is to actually need.
Do I feel safe?
Like when I’m crossing a street and there’s a car coming, and I’m already past it, almost stepping on the sidewalk, and I, still, feel my heart racing for a millisecond before I do step on the pavement, where I’m again in peace. Protected from the rushing lights and wheels and traffic jam around me.
Like when it’s December but I’m wearing a spring jacket just because I’m disillusioned it’s warm.
Like when I’ve been looking for a handkerchief all day and I unzip my pocket to find my keys and instead, I encounter the stupid napkin, shabby and just as forgotten as anything else in my life.
Like when I needed it all day and I don’t need it anymore.
That’s how much everything hurts me.
That I find it two seconds after I lost interest of it.
And it doesn’t even make the cut.