Kisa’s in the bathroom murdering ladybugs without remorse; sucking them down with a vacuum. I think there are two survivors but I can’t be sure. They’re in hiding. Indy’s under the bed, watchful eyes in the dark waiting for the killing spree to be over. She hates the vacuum. She’s hiding, too. I’m learning to be a lady, which means keeping things like band aids, bra straps and blemishes…oh, and bad dreams…out of sight. Best foot forward or fall flat on your face.
What other things can we hide? I’m killing a friendship because I can’t deal with the consequences. Not my problem~all my fault. Walk away slowly and no one will get hurt. Or something like that. I spent a long time talking to a friend about it. Weird to talk to one friend about another friend and realize there’s only one friend in the picture – the person you are talking to. It bites to be so blase about the whole thing. What was once care is now so callous. Lies do not make loyalty.
All I have ever wanted is out and out honesty. Step up. Be an adult and tell the fukcing truth. Don’t make yourself or your life out to be something that it isn’t. Stand tall, be proud and show the world who you really are. We love you as you are.
Yet. And, yet. We hide. Hide behind bragging and bravado.
I stand in the mirror’s way and wonder what it really sees in me. If my bra strap slips off my shoulder would you sue me? If stress gets the better of my face would you avoid looking me in the eye? My bad dreams circle like black smoke I can’t blow away. I won’t hide. For better or worse I’m here. Be here, too. Please. I love you the way you are.
So, I’m in the bathroom. A ladybug comes out of hiding. My bra strap falls. I’m almost about to pull it back up and think again. Coming out of hiding I smile and leave it where it is. Fukc it.