I write reminders on the back of my hand

in black sharpie

(which isn’t as permanent as they say it is).

A laundry list of to-dos and have-dones, compounding on itself until I inevitably run out of skin.

It is the only visible sign of the words that cover every inch of me,

lines of reminders to

be flawless

be unique

be brilliant

be calm be generous be patient bebeautifulberightfunnyfaithfulcharmingperfect

everything but be you.

Because it’s so much easier to be anchored

to not worry about what everyone thinks

(because what they think doesn’t matter if they can’t actually see you).

So instead of being me and being free from the words

I am a self-defined subordinate clause

I am a sentence confined within parentheses

I am a word in italics surrounded by bold

I allow the words to wind around me.

They are my protection.

They are my chains.