All True

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I am

I am

I am

I am a woman

I am a feminist

I am an activist

I am an urban goddess walking briskly out of the subway with my overpriced English Breakfast tea (with cream and honey please) gripped between my freshly painted, super chic nails. I turn the volume up on my headphones so I don’t hear the catcalls or pleas for money.

I want

I want

I want

I want social change      

I want meaningful relationships               

I want inner peace

I want to be the woman who turns all the heads when she walks in the room. Forget loving my body, I want to cut you with my cheekbones and stab you with my rib cage. I want to be ravaged and loved sweetly true. I want you to respect my boundaries but damn you, why don’t you take me the moment I walk through our door?!   

I buy

I buy

I buy

I buy organic produce

I buy trendy swag from fundraisers

I buy “local”

I buy whatever is on sale. I buy Cheetos and condoms at Safeway and hide them beneath a bag of kale. I buy clothes I know full well are probably the product of poor Timmy Tim-Buk-Tu working 37 hours a day but I put that to the back of my mind because: damn those pants make look like a discount J-Lo.

 

I am

I am

I am

 

A world - class hypocrite. Hiding behind these labels and images that I so desperately and willingly strap to my identity like some sort of trendy armor- available in stores now for the low price of $mysanity.

 

 I am everything, all at once. Holding these contradictions closely so as not to let them out at the same time. Constantly repeating and affirming and projecting. My mouth overflows with beautiful ideas that lie somewhere in my heart but the more they fall out of my throat the less I believe them.

 

The truth is I have no idea who I am. The vision is there, but sincerity lags in apathy. I am consumed in the performance- convincing myself there is no one else to see.

 

I’m afraid to look. She might be irrevocably broken because even now I can’t stop. I don’t even eat Cheetos.  

 

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