We Are In The Offing

It’s been a hard week. It feels like I have been spending years walking up a down escalator.
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One night, I sat out on the fire escape for two hours listening to music and swaying, wondering if there was someone in the building across the street, watching me.
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I took a bath even though I didn’t want to. I poured in an extra capful of bubbles because water can cover your body but not hide it.
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Pumpkin and chocolate are a surprisingly good combination, which is fortunate, because I tripled the recipe the first time I made it.
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“I have earned the right to be selfish,” I say, as I make my mother cry.
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“I wonder if the stars think we’re beautiful too.”
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When I was fourteen, my sister’s friends would find me crying in the school bathroom and run to get her.
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When I was fifteen, I wrote poems about how uncomfortable the seats on the bus were and worked on how to lie convincingly.
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She does not understand her own worth. She does not understand the light within her. It is easier to hate her soul than to gently love and nurture it.
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“Be soft for the sake of every hard heart; show them with every movement of your body that gentle does not mean weak.”
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The first time a boy touched my waist, we were looking at the sunset and we were by the beach and I felt beautiful.
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We have created our destruction and it does not need our acknowledgement to obliterate.
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The second time I was scared and I said no no no and I laughed a weird, horsey laugh because I didn’t know what to do and I pulled at his arms but I felt dizzy and he was strong and he texted me that night that he hated me and he wished he never met me and I cried because I needed to love him and the next day he apologized and cried and I cried and I didn’t say no no no.
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He said, “Go fuck yourself,” and stalked off. When he came back he tried to talk to me and I said, “I’m too busy fucking myself.” So he bought me ice-cream.
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“Do not dig your grave with your own knife and fork.”
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It is easy to talk to strangers, and so I have many more strangers than I have friends.
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The first time I was able to go really fast on the ice, I skated for hours until I was exhausted. I whispered to my mother afterwards that when I skated, all the bottles broke. All the bottles broke and an intense pressure was lifted from my chest.
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He asks if I’m okay and I say I’m good, I’m just a little tired today. Why did I say that when I was craving comfort? Why did I close my mouth when it was being spoon-fed like a stubborn child who cannot care for themselves?
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“Sometimes, the night wakes up in the middle of me and I can do nothing but become the moon.” (Nayirrah Waheed)
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I have been to too many doctors and not enough bookstores.
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My biggest fear is that I am the emperor, and one day, a little boy will shout that I am naked.
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Merav