This morning, I got to lay in my bed past 10am. When I left my house, I didn't have my Camelbak, goggles, bandana, bike, sunglasses, chapstick, or my camera. I didn't put on sunscreen. My breakfast was not a power bar and frozen vitamin water, and I didn't brush my teeth in a tub and spit in a grey water container. I had to look at myself in the mirror. I had to contemplate make-up and consider a bra. I brushed my hair. The clothes I put on were clean, unwrinkled and matched. I entered a world that I was sure was staring at me, watching me and judging me for more than my wildness, my creative talents and the pureness of who I am. It's a lot to be back for a girl who is fragile on a normal day. It's a challenge to fight dust storms, transport yourself, feed yourself and protect yourself emotionally in a world of experiements, but it is even more to take her from the safe confines of general acceptance and stick her back in a world of measurements. Here I have an age, my hair has a length and color, my skin has flaws, and my breasts have a size. Only a week ago I walked a land with dusty toes, scared and alone and afraid of relying on myself, but certain at any moment that I fell, there were thousands around me to catch me, I was always sure I was a reach away from someone who understood. Here, I am not even trusting in my ability to catch myself, hiding from the harsh reality and stresses that are trying to pull me apart. In a city with walls, I feel divided from those around me, terrified of the next moment.
Give me back my stormy skies, dust in the corners of my eyes...I want to feel whole again.
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