[AN EXISTENTIAL CRISIS]

The hairs on my head hold memories,

and as it lengthens, and

sheds,

I forgive.

My eyebrows shape my personality

and as I trim, and

tweeze,

I evolve.

My eyelashes grasp at appearances

and as I coat, and

curl,

I flow

like a faucet, down the drain of ambiguity and pretense

and the water

it gets hotter, scorching

as all my tears meld together,

rejoice and loneliness and goodbye and hello and why and what now and what if and hatred and love and longing and worry and

Passion plugs the drain and the sink overflows with my failures and my lies and my differences, with my other worldliness that makes me stick out in a lunchroom,

but except I don't stick out, not really, not among billions

Big picture, panorama with everyone I've ever seen or met or ever will meet and I am nothing but a stupid smiling face  

and it's not even a real smile, it's forced, because the sun is too bright and I've been standing too long and

 

When we really get down to it,

when we look past the confidant, opinionated me,

we see the little girl hiding behind her hair,

alone in the lunchroom.